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occamstfs · 11 days

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Tenor Troubles

Masculinization spurred by a going from a Tenor to a Bass, bit of an odd one but hope you enjoy! -Occam

Max probably should have read his contract more closely. He knew that grad students across the board were getting shafted, but the agreement he has with the College of Fine Arts was some next level exploitation. He prided himself on his voice, being able to sing higher than even most of the Altos he has previously studied alongside. But his degree plan on the already signed contract suggests he is going to be enrolled as a Bass in the graduate program. Clearly there has been some misunderstanding that he’ll just need to work out with the department.

He knocks on the door of his advising professor and without waiting for a come in he bursts through the doors to see the man who is both his boss and professor staring at him less than pleased. Max’s face reddens in embarrassment and before he can even open his mouth to speak, Dr. Reyes addresses him.

“Maxwell is it. I trust you have a reason for barging into my office? I ask that you take more care towards decorum in the future.”

Max stumbles through an apology before getting to the matter at hand. “Y- yes of course I’m so sorry doctor it won't happen again, I swear.” He raises his eyes to his professor’s stern gaze, flinching back slightly as he goes on, “it’s just that, um, it looks like there was some kind of mix-up with my enrollment, I mean clearly you can tell I’m a Tenor right?” He raises his tone slightly and smiles awkwardly as he tries to make it clear to the man across from him that he certainly does not have the range.

Dr. Reyes rubs his beard, briefly covering his own mouth and wiping a smile from his face. “Well now Maxwell, there does seem to be a mismatch between your vocal training, and your preferred classes and yada yada,” waving his hands dismissively as Max’s face stains a deeper shade of scarlet by the second. Reyes goes on, “I'll see what I can do but all these changes take time If you must change your plan it’ll be at least a week. Until then if you could see to it that you fulfill the TA demands asked of you and attend your classes hm? You are under contract are you not?” The image of his signature at the bottom of contract feels burned into his retinas as he starts to reply, “well yes but-” An alarm goes off on the professor’s desk. “Very well Maxwell, if you would excuse me.”

Dr. Reyes makes his way to the next class smiling as he too thinks of the fine print of Maxwell's contract. ‘The student will become what the program asks of him.’ What a dunce one must be to sign that without an inquiry. Giving one last glance behind him to see the small student shaking with rage at the series of events, veins appearing to bulge out of his neck as he thinks about chasing after his professor, almost taking a step before grasping at his head. Max doubles over and grunts, after a painful second he rises once more and sees his advising professor enter a classroom. He exhales through his nose and walks to the concert hall with the undergraduate Bass students, the course he is, both legally and otherwise, compelled to assist with.

The Next Week

Max is inches away from just dropping out. He was well-prepared to be constantly stressed from grad school but the wrench of working with students who don’t respect him and professors that are expecting him to sing alongside the rest of these professional bassists, it’s impossible! Dr. Reyes must be doing some sick joke on him, there is no reason it should be so difficult to fix this! He shouldn’t be graded for the university’s mistake. Beyond the looming threat of flunking these courses for his inaptitude he is also constantly hungry. His stomach rumbles and sends pangs through his body as he sits through each course on vocal instruction. He succumbs to stress-eating assuming one plate must fall and it may as well be his waistline.

Every time he indulges in his hunger he finds weight almost immediately piles on. Alongside his meticulously honed falsetto he has always enjoyed just how tight and small he kept his twinkish figure, though this begins to slip as he finds himself straining his tight pants and his stomach showing through his button ups.

The final issue lies precisely in his private vocal practice, in lieu of the training his program should guarantee. As he goes about practicing the arias and vocalizations that he typically uses as warmups he finds himself struggling to hit the highest notes. He works his way through them slowly and slips up, finding his range is peaking out much lower than it ever should. He grimaces and refuses to deign and see if his range has increased in the other direction. He goes note by note, taking his time to feel the stress and vibrations of his vocal chords. Reaching the pinnacle of the piece he strains to hit the high note and his voice promptly cracks. He feels a tear. He coughs and gasps for air concerned that he has truly injured himself.

When no blood or further pain reveals itself Max finally clears his throat and drinks a glass of water. He tests his voice, “Uhhhh-” forcing his hand over his mouth before even getting a full syllable out. Eyes watering as he hears his voice is unmistakably deeper than it was not a minute ago. This spurs him to action as he storms to the college and bangs on the door of Dr. Reyes.

For his part Reyes is sitting at the desk finishing an email and grinning as he hears the banging grow only more fervent at his door. He finishes his email almost laughing at how effective he is at controlling the man at the door. Knock as he may he could not storm in if he wanted to, as he must desperately. Closing his laptop and reaching to grab a tea bag from within his desk he calls to allow Max entry, “Do come in Maxwell.”

Stomping into the room, unaccustomed to the new weight he carries, which Dr. Reyes is all too pleased to notice. He takes a deep breath as he prepares to shout at the professor, his chest growing as his already prodigious lungs expand. Before finishing though Reyes raises a finger and strikes him passive and mute. “Now Max, why don’t you have a seat.” He clenches his hands with a furor and sits, stewing in his mind while also rapt with attention. “How have you been liking your classes?” Max continues to sit silently watching as the prepare a pot of tea, beginning to forget his ire as he looks on in confusion at the man. Reyes turns once more and rolls his eyes, “Well go on.”

Shaking out of it Max finally starts clearing his throat a few times hoping the voice he has worked so hard to protect and train will return “I, ugh- Sorry it’s ugh!” Dr. Reyes leans against his desk and steeps the tea bag, eyebrows raised with a thin smile on his face. Failing to speak as he so wishes the rage returns to Max and he shouts out, “It’s my fucking voice! I came here to learn and all these classes are just a waste of my fucking time!”

Reyes pours the tea into a large mug and sets it in front of his student, “Now now, if you were having voice problems why didn’t you just say so Max. I am a professional after all! Have some of this and I’m sure it will set you right as rain.” The professor watches as Max grasps the mug and stares into it. He remembers that Reyes was already preparing it when he came in. But it’s not as if his advisor would do something truly untoward right? Sensing the hesitation Dr. Reyes’ eyes darken and he commands, “I did say to drink it did I not.”

Max quickly raises the glass and sips. His eyes remain dark and he continues, “what seems to be the problem with your voice young Maxwell?” Taking a break from drinking he starts to explain all of his troubles to the man who should be looking out for him. Gesturing to his clearly larger body, Reyes notices beyond the weight gain that the sitting man is adjusting himself as his pants begin to grow even tighter, his ankles growing exposed as if his legs were lengthening.

He continues to stumble onward with his recollection, forgetting what exactly bothered him enough to storm in. Reyes half-listens and takes care to refill the tea cup as needed, taking in the physical changes to the man rambling and wondering just how far they will be able to go. Eventually Reyes speaks up, “you were having trouble with your voice, yes Maxwell?”

Max’s eyes glimmer with recognition and he almost jumps with a start, “Yes! That was it I couldn’t sing the part I auditioned with in Nessun Dorma and I was-” His professor interrupts as he takes a big swing at Max’s psyche, “Is that so? What were you doing singing that Maxwell, that’s for tenors.” As if a grenade went off in his mind Max struggles to reconcile and remember what his problem was, did he not audition as a Tenor? But he couldn’t sing high to save his life right? Or no.

Reyes watches as Max’s brow grows sweaty in his inner struggle. He physically raises the cup to Max’s mouth helping him finish the entire pot of tea. Confident that the man before him is far enough gone to only latch on his words, Reyes offers him a bone, “which side of your range are you struggling with boy.” Feeling emasculated by the professor infantilizing him he feels an urge to test his lower range. Reyes sees the resolve in Max’s eyes and challenges him, “Go on, sing your lowest note, now.” Max takes a deep breath and produces a sonorous note sustaining it far better than he would have ever expected himself to.

Reyes smiles and shoots to plant another seed, “Well now Maxwell, I’m not quite sure what the problem is then. Your range seems to be what any trained Baritone’s should be.” The word Baritone echoes through Max’s head as he once more grows paralyzed in his own mind. He ekes out a “B- Baritone?” his voice cracking even deeper as he freezes. Reyes watches as his eyebrows knit together in confusion, they seem to grow thicker as they near each other.

Vocal range and masculinity don’t inherently match one-to-one but the professor is more than happy to allow it, staring as the weight from Max’s stomach begins to slightly redistribute itself, it slides up his chest, straining the buttons near his collar. Reyes shifts to look at Max’s face, eyes lingering on the Adam's apple making itself unmissable on his neck. He sees peach fuzz growing on Max’s upper lip and sideburns. Thoroughly pleased with the acceleration he has achieved today an alarm once more goes off on his phone and he readies to send his protege off.

“Maxwell dear, I thank you for your patience. Of course I know that you’d prefer to be with the other Baritone student’s though I am sure you are learning valuable information working outside your comfort zone hm? I’m sure we’ll have this snafu fixed by next week.” Max just stares in a stupor as he stares at his professor, the empty mug of tea still in his hand before he sets it down to scratch at his tighter shirt. Dr. Reyes offers him a kerchief to wipe the drool from his mouth as he leads him out of his office, “Why don’t you try your warm ups, I’m sure they’ll set you right as rain.”

Just as he did last time he takes one last look at his growing student as he begins to wander down the hall, his pants swiftly turning from slacks to tight capris. He hears the echo of the man humming to himself as he walks down the hallway to his own office hours. He’ll need to be ready for whatever his Bass performance students need right? Can’t have them out showing him even if he’s still working outside his comfort zone. Just one more week of this and he’ll get to show off to the Baritones, once more with his choral cohort.

The Next Week

Dr. Reyes stays abreast of how his star pupil is doing this week. He visits during private lessons and checks into lectures on music theory and rehearsals. He hears the man force his voice to be stronger. After any challenge he hears the man force himself to be louder. When struggling with curriculum, surely impeded by the doctor’s manipulation, he clutches at his head as his body surges larger, tightening clothes that were already sizes too large when he started his education here.

He sees Max looking at his reflection in the mirror of a practice room. He checks his beard from every angle, tilting his head up to see his large Adam's apple and smirks watching it vibrate as he hums. He unbuttons yet another button of his shirt, allowing an even greater view of his pecs as thick chest hair spills outward. Reyes hears his voice power through the soundproofed room as he approaches. He has clearly decided to leave Baritone behind without any prodding as he endeavors to show off his talents despite ostensibly singing to himself.

Dr. Reyes knocks on the door of the practice room and like an eager dog Max falls over himself to answer it. He now stands taller than his professor whose head now lies directly at the hairy pecs spilling from his opened shirt. Max’s eyes glimmer as he looks down to the smug face of the professor. He quickly sits down to lower himself below the doctor and eagerly awaits whatever is soon to spill from Reyes’ mouth.

“I must say Maxwell, you have truly outdone yourself. Truly you hold one of the most powerful Bass voices I have heard in my time.” Max sits quietly, his heart racing with excitement from such kind words. He struggles to stay silent, lest he speak out of turn, though he cannot hide the rumble in his chest as his deep breaths accelerate. The doctor struggles to keep it together as he sees a pulse in the unmistakable, currently growing, bulge in Max’s pants. He briefly wonders if he’s gone too far, before looking back to the man’s face, seeing his eyes still staring directly into him waiting.

Perhaps he can go farther. “Is it not a shame though, my dear Max, that you’re not a true Basso Profundo?” There is a loud tear in the room as Max’s body surges larger. He shoots up inches more in height revealing a hairy stomach and pubes that already spill beyond the bounds of his pants. Reyes hears a catch in his student’s breath and watches as his Adam's apple bulge even further from his throat. His cock bursts the zipper of his pants and Max moans loud and deep enough for the professor to feel it in his chest. Reyes can’t take his eyes from the hair covering his chest grows even darker, curling as each strand grows thicker.

Before losing control of himself and his desires Dr. Reyes forces one last statement through Max’s mind, “You know the department has always wanted a basso profundo coach. How would you feel about being an assistant professor, Max?” In response Max can only sit in awe as a look of what can only be described as pleasure stains his face, mouth lolling open as his eyes grow crossed. His hands clench the sides of his chair as he struggles to not lose control over himself and the professor. Thinking of staining the practice room only makes it more difficult to keep it together.

Reyes feels a hunger within himself as he stares down at the massive man seconds away from cumming all over himself. In time he too will only know Max as the powerful man he is now. At this juncture however the doctor sneaks out of the practice room and heads to return to his office to prepare for office hours, what kind of a professor would he be if he wasn’t there for his pupils after all.

Walking down the hallway he hears the man in the practice room lose control, his voice echoing down the hall before hearing him run out and to the nearest bathroom. He prioritizes increasing the soundproofing of the practice rooms before turning to see the new Assistant Professor sprint down the hallway towards the nearest restroom. Struggling to move swiftly or quietly in his far-too-strained clothing. Reyes returns to the desk and smiles once more to himself as he thinks of a future for himself, his program, and his new star Basso Profundo, before hearing yet another knock at the door.

“Do come in.”

#male tf #masculinization #mental change #muscle tf #hair growth #male transformation

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disabled-dragoon · 9 months

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The Disability Library

I love books, I love literature, and I love this blog, but it's only been recently that I've really been given the option to explore disabled literature, and I hate that. When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be able to read about characters like me, and now as an adult, all I want is to be able to read a book that takes us seriously.

And so, friends, Romans, countrymen, I present, a special disability and chronic illness booklist, compiled by myself and through the contributions of wonderful members from this site!

As always, if there are any at all that you want me to add, please just say. I'm always looking for more!

Edit 20/10/2023: You can now suggest books using the google form at the bottom!

Updated: 31/08/2023

Articles and Chapters

The Drifting Language of Architectural Accessibility in Victor Hugo's Notre-Dame de Paris, Essaka Joshua, 2012

Early Modern Literature and Disability Studies, Allison P. Hobgood, David Houston Wood, 2017

How Do You Develop Whole Object Relations as an Adult?, Elinor Greenburg, 2019

Making Do with What You Don't Have: Disabled Black Motherhood in Octavia E. Butler's Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents, Anna Hinton, 2018

Necropolitics, Achille Mbeme, 2003 OR Necropolitics, Achille Mbeme, 2019

Wasted Lives: Modernity and Its Outcasts, Zygmunt Bauman, 2004

Witchcraft and deformity in early modern English Literature, Scott Eaton, 2020

Books

Fiction:

Misc:

10 Things I Can See From Here, Carrie Mac

A-F:

A Curse So Dark and Lonely, (Series), Brigid Kemmerer

Akata Witch, (Series), Nnedi Okorafor

A Mango-Shaped Space, Wendy Mass

Ancillary Justice, (Series), Ann Leckie

An Unkindness of Ghosts, Rivers Solomon

An Unseen Attraction, (Series), K. J. Charles

A Shot in the Dark, Victoria Lee

A Snicker of Magic, Natalie Lloyd

A Song of Ice and Fire, (series), George R. R. Martin

A Spindle Splintered, (Series), Alix E. Harrow

A Time to Dance, Padma Venkatraman

Bath Haus, P. J. Vernon

Beasts of Prey, (Series), Ayana Gray

The Bedlam Stacks, (Series), Natasha Pulley

Black Bird, Blue Road, Sofiya Pasternack

Black Sun, (Series), Rebecca Roanhorse

Blood Price, (Series), Tanya Huff

Borderline, (Series), Mishell Baker

Breath, Donna Jo Napoli

The Broken Kingdoms, (Series), N.K. Jemisin

Brute, Kim Fielding

Cafe con Lychee, Emery Lee

Carry the Ocean, (Series), Heidi Cullinan

Challenger Deep, Neal Shusterman

Cinder, (Series), Marissa Meyer

Clean, Amy Reed

Connection Error, (Series), Annabeth Albert

Cosima Unfortunate Steals A Star, Laura Noakes

Crazy, Benjamin Lebert

Crooked Kingdom, (Series), Leigh Bardugo

Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots, (Series), Cat Sebastian

Daniel, Deconstructed, James Ramos

Dead in the Garden, (Series), Dahlia Donovan

Dear Fang, With Love, Rufi Thorpe

Deathless Divide, (Series), Justina Ireland

The Degenerates, J. Albert Mann

The Doctor's Discretion, E.E. Ottoman

Earth Girl, (Series), Janet Edwards

Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead, Emily R. Austin

The Extraordinaries, (Series), T. J. Klune

The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict, (Series), Trenton Lee Stewart

Fight + Flight, Jules Machias

The Final Girl Support Group, Grady Hendrix

Finding My Voice, (Series), Aoife Dooley

The First Thing About You, Chaz Hayden

Follow My Leader, James B. Garfield

Forever Is Now, Mariama J. Lockington

Fortune Favours the Dead, (Series), Stephen Spotswood

Fresh, Margot Wood

H-0:

Harmony, London Price

Harrow the Ninth, (series), Tamsyn Muir

Hench, (Series), Natalia Zina Walschots

Highly Illogical Behaviour, John Corey Whaley

Honey Girl, Morgan Rogers

How to Become a Planet, Nicole Melleby

How to Bite Your Neighbor and Win a Wager, (Series), D. N. Bryn

How to Sell Your Blood & Fall in Love, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, Joy Demorra

I Am Not Alone, Francisco X. Stork

The Immeasurable Depth of You, Maria Ingrande Mora

In the Ring, Sierra Isley

Into The Drowning Deep, (Series), Mira Grant

Iron Widow, (Series), Xiran Jay Zhao

Izzy at the End of the World, K. A. Reynolds

Jodie's Journey, Colin Thiele

Just by Looking at Him, Ryan O'Connell

Kissing Doorknobs, Terry Spencer Hesser

Lakelore, Anna-Marie McLemore

Learning Curves, (Series), Ceillie Simkiss

Let's Call It a Doomsday, Katie Henry

The Library of the Dead, (Series), TL Huchu

The Lion Hunter, (Series), Elizabeth Wein

Lirael, (Series), Garth Nix

Long Macchiatos and Monsters, Alison Evans

Love from A to Z, (Series), S.K. Ali

Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses, Kristen O'Neal

Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

The Never Tilting World, (Series), Rin Chupeco

The No-Girlfriend Rule, Christen Randall

Nona the Ninth, (series), Tamsyn Muir

Noor, Nnedi Okorafor

Odder Still, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Once Stolen, (Series), D. N. Bryn

One For All, Lillie Lainoff

On the Edge of Gone, Corinne Duyvis

Origami Striptease, Peggy Munson

Our Bloody Pearl, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Out of My Mind, Sharon M. Draper

P-T:

Parable of the Sower, (Series), Octavia E. Butler

Parable of the Talents, (Series), Octavia E. Butler

Percy Jackson & the Olympians, (series), Rick Riordan

Pomegranate, Helen Elaine Lee

The Prey of Gods, Nicky Drayden

The Pursuit Of..., (Series), Courtney Milan

The Queen's Thief, (Series), Megan Whalen Turner

The Quiet and the Loud, Helena Fox

The Raging Quiet, Sheryl Jordan

The Reanimator's Heart, (Series), Kara Jorgensen

The Remaking of Corbin Wale, Joan Parrish

Roll with It, (Series), Jamie Sumner

Russian Doll, (Series), Cristelle Comby

The Second Mango, (Series), Shira Glassman

Scar of the Bamboo Leaf, Sieni A.M

Shaman, (Series), Noah Gordon

Sick Kids in Love, Hannah Moskowitz

The Silent Boy, Lois Lowry

Six of Crows, (Series) Leigh Bardugo

Sizzle Reel, Carlyn Greenwald

The Spare Man, Mary Robinette Kowal

The Stagsblood Prince, (Series), Gideon E. Wood

Stake Sauce, Arc 1: The Secret Ingredient is Love. No, Really, (Series), RoAnna Sylver

Stars in Your Eyes, Kacen Callender [Expected release: Oct 2023]

The Storm Runner, (Series), J. C. Cervantes

Stronger Still, (Series), D. N. Bryn

Sweetblood, Pete Hautman

Tarnished Are the Stars, Rosiee Thor

The Theft of Sunlight, (Series), Intisar Khanani

Throwaway Girls, Andrea Contos

Top Ten, Katie Cotugno

Torch, Lyn Miller-Lachmann

Treasure, Rebekah Weatherspoon

Turtles All the Way Down, John Green

U-Z:

Unlicensed Delivery, Will Soulsby-McCreath Expected release October 2023

Verona Comics, Jennifer Dugan

Vorkosigan Saga, (Series), Lois McMaster Bujold

We Are the Ants, (Series), Shaun David Hutchinson

The Weight of Our Sky, Hanna Alkaf

Whip, Stir and Serve, Caitlyn Frost and Henry Drake

The Whispering Dark, Kelly Andrew

Wicked Sweet, Chelsea M. Cameron

Wonder, (Series), R. J. Palacio

Wrong to Need You, (Series), Alisha Rai

Ziggy, Stardust and Me, James Brandon

Graphic Novels:

A Quick & Easy Guide to Sex & Disability, (Non-Fiction), A. Andrews

Constellations, Kate Glasheen

Dancing After TEN: a graphic memoir, (memoir) (Non-Fiction), Vivian Chong, Georgia Webber

Everything Is an Emergency: An OCD Story in Words Pictures, (memoir) (Non-Fiction), Jason Adam Katzenstein

Frankie's World: A Graphic Novel, (Series), Aoife Dooley

The Golden Hour, Niki Smith

Nimona, N. D. Stevenson

The Third Person, (memoir) (Non-Fiction), Emma Grove

Magazines and Anthologies:

Artificial Divide, (Anthology), Robert Kingett, Randy Lacey

Beneath Ceaseless Skies #175: Grandmother-nai-Leylit's Cloth of Winds, (Article), R. B. Lemburg

Defying Doomsday, (Anthology), edited by Tsana Dolichva and Holly Kench

Josee, the Tiger and the Fish, (short story) (anthology), Seiko Tanabe

Nothing Without Us, edited by Cait Gordon and Talia C. Johnson

Nothing Without Us Too, edited by Cait Gordon and Talia C. Johnson

Unbroken: 13 Stories Starring Disabled Teens, (Anthology), edited by Marieke Nijkamp

Uncanny #24: Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction, (Anthology), edited by: Elsa Sjunneson-Henry, Dominik Parisien et al.

Uncanny #30: Disabled People Destroy Fantasy, (Anthology), edited by: Nicolette Barischoff, Lisa M. Bradley, Katharine Duckett

We Shall Be Monsters, edited by Derek Newman-Stille

Manga:

Perfect World, (Series), Rie Aruga

The Sky is Blue with a Single Cloud, (Short Stories), Kuniko Tsurita

Non-Fiction:

Academic Ableism: Disability and Higher Education, Jay Timothy Dolmage

A Disability History of the United States, Kim E, Nielsen

The Architecture of Disability: Buildings, Cities, and Landscapes beyond Access, David Gissen

Being Seen: One Deafblind Woman's Fight to End Ableism, Elsa Sjunneson

Black Disability Politics, Sami Schalk

Borderline, Narcissistic, and Schizoid Adaptations: The Pursuit of Love, Admiration, and Safety, Dr. Elinor Greenburg

Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure, Eli Clare

The Cambridge Companion to Literature and Disability, Barker, Clare and Stuart Murray, editors.

The Capacity Contract: Intellectual Disability and the Question of Citizenship, Stacy Clifford Simplican

Capitalism and Disability, Martha Russel

Care work: Dreaming Disability Justice, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Catatonia, Shutdown and Breakdown in Autism: A Psycho-Ecological Approach, Dr Amitta Shah

The Collected Schizophrenias: Essays, Esme Weijun Wang

Crip Kinship, Shayda Kafai

Crip Up the Kitchen: Tools, Tips and Recipes for the Disabled Cook, Jules Sherred

Culture – Theory – Disability: Encounters between Disability Studies and Cultural Studies, Anne Waldschmidt, Hanjo Berressem, Moritz Ingwersen

Decarcerating Disability: Deinstitutionalization and Prison Abolition, Liat Ben-Moshe

Demystifying Disability: What to Know, What to Say, and How to Be an Ally, Emily Ladau

Dirty River: A Queer Femme of Color Dreaming Her Way Home, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Disability Pride: Dispatches from a Post-ADA World, Ben Mattlin

Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories From the Twenty-First Century, Alice Wong

Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability and Making Space, Amanda Leduc

Every Cripple a Superhero, Christoph Keller

Exile and Pride: Disability, Queerness and Liberation, Eli Clare

Feminist Queer Crip, Alison Kafer

The Future Is Disabled: Prophecies, Love Notes, and Mourning Songs, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Growing Up Disabled in Australia, Carly Findlay

It's Just Nerves: Notes on a Disability, Kelly Davio

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Rebecca Skloot

Language Deprivation & Deaf Mental Health, Neil S. Glickman, Wyatte C. Hall

The Minority Body: A Theory of Disability, Elizabeth Barnes

My Body and Other Crumbling Empires: Lessons for Healing in a World That Is Sick, Lyndsey Medford

No Right to Be Idle: The Invention of Disability, 1840s-1930s, Sarah F. Rose

Nothing About Us Without Us: Disability Oppression and Empowerment, James I. Charlton

The Pedagogy of Pathologization Dis/abled Girls of Color in the School-prison Nexus, Subini Ancy Annamma

Physical Disability in British Romantic Literature, Essaka Joshua

QDA: A Queer Disability Anthology, Raymond Luczak, Editor.

The Right to Maim: Debility, Capacity, Disability, Jasbir K. Puar

Sitting Pretty, (memoir), Rebecca Taussig

Sounds Like Home: Growing Up Black & Deaf in the South, Mary Herring Wright

Surviving and Thriving with an Invisible Chronic Illness: How to Stay Sane and Live One Step Ahead of Your Symptoms, Ilana Jacqueline

The Things We Don't Say: An Anthology of Chronic Illness Truths, Julie Morgenlender

Uncanny Bodies: Superhero Comics and Disability, Scott T. Smith, José Alaniz

Uncomfortable Labels: My Life as a Gay Autistic Trans Woman, (memoir), Laura Kate Dale

Unmasking Autism, Devon Price

The War on Disabled People: Capitalism, Welfare and the Making of a Human Catastrophe, Ellen Clifford

We've Got This: Essays by Disabled Parents, Eliza Hull

Year of the Tiger: An Activist's Life, (memoir) (essays) Alice Wong

Picture Books:

A Day With No Words, Tiffany Hammond, Kate Cosgrove-

A Friend for Henry, Jenn Bailey, Mika Song

Ali and the Sea Stars, Ali Stroker, Gillian Reid

All Are Welcome, Alexandra Penfold, Suzanne Kaufman

All the Way to the Top, Annette Bay Pimentel, Jennifer Keelan-Chaffins, Nabi Ali

Can Bears Ski?, Raymond Antrobus, Polly Dunbar

Different -- A Great Thing to Be!, Heather Alvis, Sarah Mensinga

Everyone Belongs, Heather Alvis, Sarah Mensinga

I Talk Like a River, Jordan Scott, Sydney Smith

Jubilee: The First Therapy Horse and an Olympic Dream, K. T. Johnson, Anabella Ortiz

Just Ask!, Sonia Sotomayor, Rafael López

Kami and the Yaks, Andrea Stenn Stryer, Bert Dodson

My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay, Cari Best, Vanessa Brantley-Newton

Rescue & Jessica: A Life-Changing Friendship, Jessica Kensky, Patrick Downes, Scott Magoon

Sam's Super Seats, Keah Brown, Sharee Miller

Small Knight and the Anxiety Monster, Manka Kasha

We Move Together, Kelly Fritsch, Anne McGuire, Eduardo Trejos

We're Different, We're the Same, and We're All Wonderful!, Bobbi Jane Kates, Joe Mathieu

What Happened to You?, James Catchpole, Karen George

The World Needs More Purple People, Kristen Bell, Benjamin Hart, Daniel Wiseman

You Are Enough: A Book About Inclusion, Margaret O'Hair, Sofia Sanchez, Sofia Cardoso

You Are Loved: A Book About Families, Margaret O'Hair, Sofia Sanchez, Sofia Cardoso

The You Kind of Kind, Nina West, Hayden Evans

Zoom!, Robert Munsch, Michael Martchenko

Plays:

Peeling, Kate O'Reilly

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With an extra special thank you to @parafoxicalk @craftybookworms @lunod @galaxyaroace @shub-s @trans-axolotl @suspicious-whumping-egg @ya-world-challenge @fictionalgirlsworld @rubyjewelqueen @some-weird-queer-writer @jacensolodjo @cherry-sys @dralthon @thebibliosphere @brynwrites @aj-grimoire @shade-and-sun @ceanothusspinosus @edhelwen1 @waltzofthewifi @spiderleggedhorse @sleepneverheardofher @highladyluck @oftheides @thecouragetobekind @nopoodles @lupadracolis @elusivemellifluence @creativiteaa @moonflowero1 @the-bi-library @chronically-chaotic-cryptid for your absolutely fantastic contributions!

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dc-marvel-life · 1 month

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These Are My Ladies (Natasha Files) - The Moment

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Summary: The first time you realize that the Black Widow is your soulmate

Word Count: ~1.5K

A/N: Now I made These Are My Ladies awhile ago not thinking many people wanted more, but there was some interested. I am going to writing this series. If you have any ideas, let me know or if you have another

These Are My Ladies Natasha Files Wanda Files Carol Files Kate Files Yelena Files

Deadman’s P.O.V

After enduring a whirlwind of missions over the past month, finally, I found myself on a well-deserved break, returning to my New York apartment with hopes of relaxation. However, upon arrival, relaxation was the last thing I felt. Neglect had turned my once orderly space into chaos, with clothes strewn about and dishes piled high.

Though cleaning wasn't a chore I minded, I discovered I had exhausted my cleaning supplies. With a resigned sigh, I added a mental note to my list: a trip to the store was imminent. Before venturing out, a pang of hunger reminded me of my empty fridge.

"Great," I muttered, closing the fridge door empty-handed. Grabbing my keys, I headed out, deciding to make a day of it and treat myself to a visit to my favorite café. Nestled in a quiet corner, it was my sanctuary, known only to a few, offering not just excellent food but also solitude.

As I entered the café and placed my order, my mind drifted to the soothing distraction of a Sudoku puzzle. But my moment of peace was disrupted by a familiar figure outside—the Black Widow.

"Shit," I whispered to myself, snapping my book shut. Whether she had spotted me or not was unclear, but I wasn't about to stick around to find out. The Avengers had never caught me, and I had no intention of allowing today to be the first.

Grabbing my food, I hastily exited the café, disappointed that my plans for relaxation had been thwarted once again. Determined to salvage what remained of my day, I made my way to a nearby park, seeking solace amidst the tranquility of nature.

Finding an empty bench, I settled down, exhaling a sigh of relief. With my food in hand and Sudoku book reopened, I lost myself in the challenge of the puzzles. Time slipped away, and before I knew it, I had devoured my meal and completed several Sudoku grids.

Glancing around the park, I spotted Black Widow in the distance, a coffee cup in hand. "Damn," I muttered, slipping away unnoticed, scanning for any other Avengers lurking nearby. Surprisingly, the coast seemed clear, prompting a sense of unease.

Nevertheless, I pressed on, knowing I had one final task ahead—the grocery store. After gathering my necessities and disposing of my trash, I made my way to the nearest store, pushing a cart as I ticked off items on my mental checklist.

Midway through my shopping, a strange sensation washed over me. Glancing around, my eyes met Black Widow's.

As we look eyes at each other, time seems to stand still, and the whole world around us fades away into a blur of insignificance. At this moment, it was as if the universe conspired this day to happen to bring us together, our souls are bound together to make an unbreakable bond.

At a single glance, there was a flow of an electric current surge between us, igniting a fire that burns deep within my heart and I know that she feels it too. This sensation is unlike any other feeling I ever felt. Just a second ago, she was one of my biggest enemies and now there is an unwavering certainty that she is my other half. There is a sense of belonging and understanding with us and we haven’t even said a word to each other yet.

Many people told me about how it felt to meet your soulmate, but this feeling is nothing how they describe it. It is even better. At this moment, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I just found my soulmate.

After what felt like an eternity, the world comes back into focus and we are back in the grocery store.

“Who put out a hit on me?” Black Widow says and drops her basket. Why would that be the first thing she says? Didn’t she feel the connection too?

“Don’t give me that look,” I guess I was making a funny face so I tried to go back to normal, “I have noticed you since this morning in the cafe. I have been trying to get away from you all day, but you are damn too good at your job” Natasha says and makes a face.

I smirked at her complimenting me on how good I was at my job even though I wasn’t working.

“I know that you know what is happening here” I say getting closer to her and she takes a few steps back, so I stop.

"No, this can't be happening! You can't be my soulmate! I don't deserve a soulmate," she murmured, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Her words struck me like a blow to the chest, the weight of her rejection crushing my spirit. Yet, even as my soul ached with the pain of her denial, I couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy. After all, hadn't I too grappled with feelings of unworthiness?

Summoning what remained of my resolve, I sought to reassure her. "I promise you, there's no hit out on you. If there were, you'd already be dead. They call me Deadman for a reason," I quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You wish," she countered with a wry chuckle, the tension between us palpable as we stood in silence, each grappling with our own doubts and insecurities.

"Let me prove you wrong. Let me show you that I am the right soulmate for you, and that you do indeed deserve one," I implored, extending an invitation that hung precariously in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, she relented, her acceptance met with an internal cheer. "Perfect. I'll cook for you. What do you want for dinner?" I inquired eagerly, already envisioning the possibilities.

"I don't know; surprise me," she replied, and with the exchange of numbers, our tentative truce was sealed.

—

With only a few hours until Black Widow's arrival, I threw myself into a frenzy of preparation. Cleaning, cooking, and setting the table consumed my attention, each task executed with meticulous care.

Yet, amid the chaos, I sought to impart a touch of sentimentality, crafting a bouquet of paper roses as a token of my affection. It was a small gesture, perhaps, but one imbued with meaning—a symbol of my earnest desire to forge a connection with her.

As the appointed hour drew near, a knock at the door heralded her arrival. I took a moment to compose myself before opening the door, my breath catching at the sight of her.

"Come in, come in. I'm glad you came," I greeted her warmly, taking her jacket and ushering her into my humble abode.

"Wow, nice place. And it smells amazing in here. What did you make?" she remarked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I made homemade chicken pasta with red sauce, Caesar salad, and cheesy garlic bread," I replied, hoping to impress her with my culinary skills.

"That sounds delicious," she murmured, a hint of appreciation evident in her tone.

Seating her at the table, I poured us each a glass of wine, savoring the moment as we embarked on this unexpected journey together. With each bite, I watched her closely, silently gauging her reaction to my cooking.

As we sat in silence, the clinking of cutlery against plates the only sound in the room, I couldn't help but observe her every move. With bated breath, I awaited her reaction to the meal I had prepared with such care. And when I saw the subtle flicker of pleasure that crossed her features, I couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at my lips.

Halfway through the meal, our pace slowed, and our gazes locked in a moment of shared understanding. It was then that I felt compelled to break the silence, to address the elephant in the room—the improbable twist of fate that had brought us together as soulmates despite our tumultuous history as adversaries.

"Look, I know this is weird for both of us. After all, we've been enemies for so long," I began, my voice tentative yet determined. "But I want to make this work. I've always dreamed of finding my soulmate, and now that I've found you, I don't want to let this opportunity slip away."

I reached out to take her hand, a gesture of reassurance, only to have it swiftly withdrawn. The sting of rejection pierced my heart, a painful echo of the hurt I had felt earlier in the store.

Undeterred, I rose from my seat, retrieving the bouquet of paper roses I had crafted with such care. "I made these for you," I explained, offering her the delicate blooms. "I know they're not real, but they'll never wither or fade. They'll be a constant reminder of the connection we share, a symbol of the enduring love I have for you."

Taking a moment to steady my nerves, I continued, "I understand that this won't be easy, given our pasts. But I'm willing to put in the work, to prove that we're meant to be together."

As she accepted the flowers, a flicker of emotion crossed her features, and for the first time since our encounter began, I dared to hope that perhaps, against all odds, our love might blossom into something beautiful and enduring.

This is the moment where our relationship starts.

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel mcu #natasha romanoff #black widow #avengers #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romonova #natasha rostova #natasha rothwell #natalia romanova #natalie rushman #mcu

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mrs5sn0w · 4 months

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Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The air was thick with unspoken tension as the First Lady, confronted President Snow about the revelation made by Mrs. Crane. The coming days brought a heavy shift in the Capitol's political landscape as she embarked on her plan to modify the Hunger Games and expose the Crane couple's illicit dealings.

---

The preparations for the 16th annual Hunger Games were in full swing, and the first lady was at the forefront, orchestrating the changes she envisioned.

The air in the control room hummed with anticipation as she outlined her modifications to the Game Makers.

"I want these Games to be more intense, more unpredictable. We need to give the districts a show they'll never forget,"

she asserted, her eyes ablaze with a newfound determination.

The head Gamemaker, Octavius, raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement. "Very well, Mrs Snow. We'll implement your changes."

As the arena was transformed into a nightmarish landscape, her influence was evident in every diabolical detail. The once calculated brutality of the Hunger Games took a macabre turn under her direction.

The night before the Games, the Capitol gathered for the traditional pre-Games banquet. She was adorned in a dress that mirrored the ominous atmosphere she had cultivated, took the stage. The cheers from the Capitol citizens echoed through the grand hall as she began her speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed citizens of the Capitol, thank you for joining me tonight. As your First Lady, I have taken it upon myself to enhance the grand tradition of the Hunger Games. This year, you will witness a spectacle like never before. I've modified the Games to push the limits of survival and test the resilience of our tributes. May the odds be ever in their favor."

The applause that followed was thunderous, but Coriolanus Snow, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of unease. He had underestimated the extent to which she would go to assert her influence.

---

The night after her speech and the modifications to the Hunger Games, tension hung in the air of the Presidential Mansion. Coriolanus Snow, unable to contain his frustration and anger, confronted her in their private chambers. The conversation quickly escalated into a heated argument.

Coriolanus, his voice laced with disdain, accused her,

"You've turned the Games into a bloodbath ! What were you thinking ?"

She was undeterred as she met his gaze with determination.

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Coriolanus. This is the Capitol's game, and I'm playing it better than anyone expected."

He scoffed,

"Playing it? You're reveling in the bloodshed! You think this is power? This is madness!"

"Madness or not, it's the reality of our world," she retorted, her words a counterpunch to his condemnation.

Coriolanus, fueled by frustration and a sense of superiority, underestimated her resolve.

"You're nothing more than a pawn in this game. Your modifications won't change a thing. You're not capable of understanding the true nature of power."

She was stung by his words but shot back, "You underestimate me, Coriolanus. I understand power better than you ever will. This," she gestured to the opulence surrounding them, "is just a façade. True power lies in the ability to shape the narrative, to control the minds of the Capitol."

His laughter was mocking. "You think you can control anything? You're a naive idealist. Your little modifications won't change a thing. The Capitol will continue to thrive, and you'll be nothing more than a forgotten First Lady."

The words cut deep, and she, despite her resolve, felt the sting of his disdain. Yet, she refused to back down.

"You may think I'm naive, but I'm not blind. I see the rot within the Capitol, and I refuse to be a silent spectator. I will change things, with or without your approval."

Coriolanus, unyielding, dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Change? You don't even understand the concept. This is the way things have always been, and this is the way they'll always be. Your feeble attempts at change are nothing more than a momentary disturbance."

In the midst of their heated argument, she was undeterred by Coriolanus Snow's verbal assault as she seized a moment to confront him about his own role in the brutality of the Hunger Games.

"Why are you so pressed, Coriolanus? Isn't this what you wanted?" her voice, though tinged with anger, carried a genuine curiosity.

Coriolanus, momentarily taken aback by her question, retorted,

"I wanted control, not chaos! There's a difference between maintaining order and descending into senseless brutality."

She countered, her tone cutting through the tension,

"But you've always admired the Games for their brutality, haven't you? You've reveled in the suffering of others. This is merely an extension of your own desires."

Coriolanus, unwilling to admit his own culpability, deflected,

"This isn't about me. This is about the Capitol, about preserving our way of life."

Her gaze bore into him, her eyes challenging his evasion, she scoffed.

"No, Coriolanus, this is about you. You've always been fascinated by the Games, by the power it gives you. You can't distance yourself from the very brutality you championed."

A tense silence settled between them as Coriolanus struggled to find a response. While she refused to back down, she continued,

"You can't play the victim now. You wanted a spectacle, and that's precisely what I'm giving the Capitol. You can't stand the reality of your own desires staring back at you."

Coriolanus, his composure slipping, snapped,

"This isn't what I wanted. You've taken it too far. You're jeopardizing everything."

"Jeopardizing what, Coriolanus?" she questioned, a note of frustration in her voice.

"The illusion of control? The carefully constructed façade of Capitol ideals? You can't blame me for embracing the very darkness you've always admired."

Their verbal sparring continued, each accusation and retort revealing the cracks in their marriage. The grandeur of the Presidential Mansion became a witness to the unraveling of a relationship built on political convenience and masked desires.

In that charged moment, Coriolanus Snow found himself confronted not just by the changes in the Hunger Games but by the undeniable truth of his own desires. The power he had sought now manifested in a form that challenged even his own convictions. His wife, unapologetic in her pursuit of change, stood as a reflection of the consequences of the very brutality he had championed. The intricacies of their relationship, once carefully hidden behind political maneuvers, were laid bare in the battlefield of their private chambers.

The argument reached its climax as her frustration collided with Coriolanus's arrogance. Hurtful words were exchanged, each sentence a dagger that severed the fragile threads holding their marriage together. The room echoed with the intensity of their discord.

"You're incapable of understanding anything beyond your thirst for power," Coriolanus sneered.

Her eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and hurt, shot back,

"And you're incapable of seeing anything beyond your own reflection. This marriage is nothing more than a political transaction to you."

The wounds of their verbal sparring ran deep, leaving a chasm between them that seemed insurmountable. The realization that they were on opposing sides of a battle, not just politically but emotionally, cast a shadow over the grandeur of the Presidential Mansion.

---

The Hunger Games arena became a grotesque stage where the First lady, his unexpected tether to humanity, faced an imminent, brutal demise.

In the grim arena, her delicate frame seemed fragile against the brutal backdrop. The poison, a sinister creation of Coriolanus Snow, introduced an insidious element to the already perilous games.

Coriolanus Snow's heart clenched as he watched her lift the poisoned chalice to her lips in the arena. A chilling fear gripped him, and he couldn't contain his desperation.

"No, don't drink it!" he pleaded, his voice echoing unheard in the arena's cruel expanse.

too late.

As she consumed the toxic drink, the effect was swift, a cruel dance of life slipping away.

The poison's tendrils took hold, and a cascade of reactions unfolded within her. A subtle tremor betrayed the onset of its deadly influence. Her gaze, once vibrant with determination, now flickered like a fading ember. The poison worked its way through her, a silent assassin claiming its victim.

Unaware of the treacherous nature of the drink, she looked toward him, a trusting gaze that stabbed him with guilt.

"Coryo, what is this?"

In that moment, fear etched lines on his face as he struggled to find words.

"It's poisoned, y/n. Drop it ! Please!"

A flicker of realization crossed her eyes, and the glass slipped from her trembling hands, crashing to the ground. The poison, however, had already claimed its place in her system, and an unspoken horror hung in the air

Every step she took became a struggle, the arena's terrain now a treacherous adversary. The poison's cruel progression manifested in her weakening limbs, each movement a testament to the inescapable grip of impending doom.

The tributes, initially mere pawns in the Capitol's game, sensed the shift in dynamics. As she faltered, they closed in like vultures, seizing the opportunity presented by her deteriorating state. The once defiant first lady, now weakened by the poison's relentless advance, faced the impending threat of the tributes' brutality.

In the cruel ballet of the arena, her demise unfolded with a tragic inevitability. The poison, a manifestation of Coriolanus Snow's malevolence, became the instrument of her tragic end,

His wife, weakened by the poison's relentless advance, managed a feeble smile while stuttering,

"do you hate me that bad ?"

"I didn't want this"

"I just wanted....the Coryo i knew back" she gently caressed his cheek while blood came out from her mouth, coughing the crimson red liquid out.

His heart ached.

The arena, once a grand stage for political machinations, now bore witness to a personal tragedy. In that moment of shared terror, the boundaries of power dissolved, leaving behind only the raw emotions of a man who had unwittingly set in motion the demise of the woman he had never intended to love.

Her skin grew colder beneath his touch, each passing moment stealing away the warmth he had come to associate with her. The vibrant life that animated her seemed to wane, replaced by an unsettling chill that permeated the very air.

His fingers, once intertwined with hers, now registered a subtle but undeniable drop in temperature.

He could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat slowing, each thud echoing a painful countdown. The heartbeat, once a steady cadence that resonated with life, now played a haunting melody of departure. It was as if time itself conspired against him, dragging out the inevitable moment of separation.

In that dream-induced reality, the fear of losing her intensified with every passing moment, a visceral force that gripped him in its merciless jaws. It wasn’t just the loss of a piece on the Capitol’s chessboard; it was the unraveling of a connection he had fiercely denied.

In the disorienting aftermath of Coriolanus Snow's harrowing nightmare, the dimly lit room bore witness to the lingering echoes of his distress. The air was thick with tension as he gasped for breath, still caught in the clutches of the haunting visions that had unfolded within the recesses of his dreams.

Coriolanus Snow woke with a start, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. The remnants of the dream lingered, casting a shadow over the reality of the dimly lit room.

His breaths were ragged, and he could feel the wet trails of tears on his cheeks. In the disorienting transition between the nightmare and wakefulness, he whispered to himself,

“y/n…”

The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of the dream still clinging to his consciousness. He wiped away the lingering tears, the vulnerability of the nightmare etched in his expression.

As he gathered himself, the echoes of her imagined demise reverberated in his mind. He couldn’t shake the visceral emotions, and the tears that escaped his eyes were a testament to the tumult within.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he murmured, a question left hanging in the air, unanswered.

Sensing his palpable distress, she rose from her position on the sofa, sprang into action. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied her swift movements across the room. Her usually composed demeanor gave way to urgency, her eyes reflecting concern as she approached him.

"Coryo," she called out softly, her voice a soothing cadence cutting through the lingering echoes of the nightmare. Her measured steps brought her to his side, where she knelt down with a graceful ease, a silhouette against the dimly lit room.

Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on his trembling shoulder, a gesture of reassurance and comfort. The warmth of her touch aimed to ground him in the reality that surrounded them, a stark contrast to the surreal horrors he had experienced in the dream.

"It's just a dream," she murmured, her voice a delicate melody attempting to calm the tempest within him. Her words were spoken with a tenderness that hoped to dissolve the lingering fear that had wrapped itself around his consciousness.

Coriolanus, still caught between the realms of dream and wakefulness, turned his gaze toward her. The dim light accentuated the concern etched on her face, the lines of worry contrasting with the usually composed features.

"I saw you die in the arena," he confessed, the vulnerability in his voice revealing a facet of himself he rarely exposed. The weight of the nightmare clung to him like a shroud, and she, perceptive to his unspoken turmoil, continued to provide solace.

Her eyes, pools of understanding, met his, and she whispered,

"It wasn't real. I'm right here."

With a graceful movement, she enveloped him in a comforting embrace, her arms a sanctuary against the residual fear that lingered in the air.

As she held him, the room became a haven, shielded from the phantoms of the nightmare. her touch was a balm, an anchor grounding him in the present.

The soothing repetition of her words became a mantra, gradually dispelling the haunting images that had plagued his subconscious.

Coriolanus, his voice a mixture of relief and lingering unease, responded,

"I don't know why it scared me so much. It felt too real, I hate you but I'm scared of losing you."

Her embrace tightened as she whispered,

"Fear doesn't always make sense. I'm here with you, safe and sound. The nightmare can't hurt you."

He nodded, the weight of the nightmare gradually lifting as her words sank in.

"I just... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," he admitted, the admission hanging in the air.

"Then is it so hard to love me back?" she uttered, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Coriolanus, taken aback, felt a pang of discomfort. The question pierced through the layers of his stoicism, and for a moment, the vulnerability he rarely displayed surfaced.

His gaze, usually unwavering, flickered with uncertainty. The weight of her inquiry lingered, and as she held him in that fragile moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his response.

She did not get a response from him but Snow began to confront a truth he had fervently avoided—the fear of losing the woman who had become an unintended anchor to his existence. As she held him, the barriers that had once defined their relationship crumbled, and the night unfolded with a raw honesty.

In that vulnerable moment, Coriolanus Snow, usually composed and stoic, let down his defenses. As he kissed his wife, there was a rawness to the emotion—an unspoken language that surpassed the political complexities of their relationship.

His lips, once reserved, now conveyed a longing that echoed the fears and vulnerabilities stirred by the haunting nightmare. The kiss held a passion that spoke of a connection beyond the Capitol's facade, an unexpected bridge between two souls navigating the intricate dance of power.

She who felt the intensity of his kiss, reciprocated with a tenderness that transcended the lingering unease. The dimly lit room bore witness to this unspoken exchange, where the weight of nightmares was replaced by the warmth of a shared moment—a moment that hinted at the complexities of love and longing in the tumultuous world they inhabited.

The lingering echoes of the nightmare were replaced by the warmth of genuine emotions, as if the haunting specter had unintentionally ushered in a new chapter in their shared existence, marked by the scars of anguish and the fragile threads of a newfound connection.

yet, she remained oblivious whether he would end up loving her or not.

Taglist : @randomgurl2326 @princessloveweird @rosewine-5 @cookielovesbook-akie @qoopeeya @corpsebridenightmare @bl0ndelilac @unclecrunkle @puredreamagination @lofhdfn

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thebibliosphere · 3 months

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Not to be an unbearable plot tease, but I'm editing/rewriting a chapter from Hunger Pangs book 2, and while I adore all of my characters equally, Vlad and Ursula getting to know each other properly might actually be some of my favorite moments.

His realization that he can pester Ursula to tell him more about random historical events as they actually happened, not how they are portrayed in history books, is so, so sweet. He's like an excited labrador who just found a dinosaur bone.

Ursula's very much not used to this kind of attention.

She's used to people only being interested in her power. And here's a werewolf who couldn't give less of a fuck about exploiting her magic for his own gain, and a vampire who wants to ask her what textile production was like circa the fall of the Ecrecian Empire.

#hunger pangs series #hunger pangs meta #I like that I can still make myself smile with this #it means I'm probably doing something right #Vlad is me in this instance #if you gave me access to a time machine #I'd make a complete nuisance of myself wanting to learn the answer to every random historical query that has ever crossed my mind

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joydemorra · 1 month

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Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more... [read the full blurb here]

What is Hunger Pangs?

Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.

It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.

The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.

No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.

There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.

How Did Phangs come to be?

Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.

Eventually, it culminated in this post:

(source)

It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.

A throwaway ADHD impulse.

Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.

I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.

Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)

What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?

In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.

It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.

Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.

If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.

It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.

As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.

The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.

While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.

It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.

(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)

Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.

Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.

Especially when you’re different.

And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.

To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com

#hunger pangs: true love bites #info post #Hunger Pangs master post

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yoga-onion · 5 months

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Buddha to his disciples, mini-series (20)

Samsara (Reincarnation)

“When something disappears, something is born. In Buddhism, life and death are the same thing.”

“Samsara” is a Pali & Sanskrit word that literally means "wandering through, flowing on", wherein the term connotes "cyclic change" or, less formally, "running around in circles." It is therefore also translated as 'reincarnation'.

Ancient Indians believed in reincarnation, or rather took it for granted. Therefore, the Buddha also thought it was natural and taught on the premise of reincarnation. And the purpose of the Buddha's teaching is for us to escape from this world of samsara (namely, liberation/enlightenment: Ref).

There are six realms of samsara as conceived by the ancient Indians. They are listed in order of increasing suffering as follows:

World of Hell (naraka), the world of the most suffering. Hell means 'underground prison'.

World of hungry ghosts (preta), a world suffering from hunger pangs. Becomes a demon with a swollen belly. A world where those who have committed the sin of greed are reborn.

World of animals (tiryagyoni), including birds, beasts, fish and insects. There are about 3.4 billion species.

World of warlike demigods (asura), Asura is a demonic species. A world where asuras live and fight all the time, causing constant suffering and anger.

World of human beings (manushya), in which human beings live. It is plagued by the fundamental sufferings, the four and eight afflictions, which are unavoidable in human life.

World of gods or celestial beings (deva), Heavenly beings can fly, and the world is full of pleasures, but here too there is the suffering of old age and death.

ブッダから弟子たちへ、ミニシリーズ (20)

輪廻〜 “何かが無くなれば、何かが生まれる。仏教では生と死は同じものである。”

“輪廻”はサンスクリット語で「サンサーラ」という。この語の本来の意味は「さまよう、流れる」を意味し、生あるものが無限の生死を繰り返すことを指す言葉だ。よって、”輪廻転生”とも訳される。

古代のインド人は、誰もが輪廻転生を信じていた、というよりは、それがあたりまえだと思っていたのだ。よって、釈迦もそれが当たり前だと思い、輪廻を前提にして教えを説いている。そして、釈迦の教えは、われわれがこの輪廻転生の世界から脱出すること（すなわち解脱：参照）が目的である。

古代インド人が考えた輪廻の世界は六つだ。以下、苦しみの多い順に並べる:

地獄界〜最も苦しみの多い世界。地獄とは「地下の牢獄」の意。

餓鬼界〜飢えの苦しみに悩む世界。腹が膨れた姿の鬼になる。慳貪の罪を犯した人が再生する世界。

畜生界〜畜生界は鳥・獣・魚・虫など畜生の世界。種類は約34億種。

修羅界〜修羅は阿修羅といい、魔類。阿修羅が住み、終始戦い争うために苦しみと怒りが絶えない世界。

人間界〜人間が住む世界。人間が生きている上で避けては通れない、根源的な苦、四苦八苦に悩まされる。

天上界〜天人は空を飛ぶことができ、快楽の多い世界だが、ここにも老・死の苦しみがある。

#samsara #reincarnation #wandering through #cyclic change #buddhism #liberation #art #nature #six paths

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vmpiires · 28 days

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﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; it comes in many forms. even clothing. wc, 4.39K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m backkk. i got so caught up in writing one-shots that i almost forgot to do the series. so i’m here. hope ya enjoyyy. reblog to support meeee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, reader has a motorcycle, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART FIVE

finally, the much-anticipated friday had arrived, as the clock struck 12:15, choso let out a heavy sigh and pushed away from his cluttered desk. the familiar sound of the bell signaling the end of class echoed through the room, soon followed by the lively chatter of students as they filed out into the hallway. as he stepped out, the distinct smell of freshly cleaned carpets mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of takoyaki and ramen wafted towards him. his stomach grumbled in response, and he rolled his eyes at his hunger pangs.

as the male strolled gracefully down the hall, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor, kashimo slung his arm over choso's broad shoulders. his face was lit up with a beaming grin that seemed to radiate energy. choso couldn't help but suppress a groan at the touch.

"what's with the frown?" kashimo asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity. "aren't you excited for tonight?" he continued; excitement evident in his tone as they made their way towards the bustling cafeteria.

"what day is it again?" choso rubbed his bleary eyes, his tiredness evident in the way he slumped in his chair. he had spent all night tending to his digital artwork and finishing up homework. kashimo nearly choked on his drink when he heard choso's question. the bags under his friend's eyes were deep and dark, a clear sign of exhaustion.

kashimo leaned in close, speaking in hushed tones. "you know it's friday, right?" he reminded choso with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "your date with you-know-who is tonight." he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing choso's eyes to widen with shock and surprise. suddenly, all traces of exhaustion seemed to vanish from choso's expression.

choso let out a frustrated sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "damn it, i almost forgot," he muttered to himself. "i need to find something nice to wear and freshen myself up. i probably look like death right now." his thoughts drifted to his upcoming date and he suddenly felt self-conscious about his appearance. kashimo waved a dismissive hand, trying to calm choso’s nerves.

"relax, you have plenty of time. your date isn't until seven and its only noon now. take a nap, get dressed, and do whatever else you gotta to do. maybe even pick up some flowers for the lovely lady." choso only rolled his eyes at kashimo's teasing words but was grateful for his reassurance.

after a satisfying lunch, the two boys retreated to choso's dorm room, where they spent their time sifting through an impressive collection of clothing. like pages in a newspaper, choso pulled each hanger from the rack and tossed the garments onto his bed.

"wow, you must come from money," remarked kashimo, studying the designer labels and high-end fabrics of the clothing strewn across the bed. the beige sweater with a brown collar and sleeves underneath that caught his eye looked like it belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. it was clear that choso had an eye for style and a wallet to match.

"i wouldn't say i'm wealthy in the traditional sense," choso replied with a hint of modesty, as he effortlessly pulled out a few pairs of designer boots. kashimo's expression shifted to one of disbelief as his eyes took in the luxurious footwear. he couldn't tell if choso was being humble or simply showcasing his affluent lifestyle.

"what’re you talking about? you have the largest room on campus, your wardrobe is filled with high-end fashion that could pay for my textbooks ten times over, you're top of the class, and you have an incredible talent for painting," kashimo exclaimed.

"you have everything. you don’t have to want for anything." the words tumbled out with a mix of admiration and envy, as kashimo couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy towards the male beside him.

choso chuckled humbly as he moved the pairs of boots closer to the bed, each one a work of art in its own right. they were made by the most prestigious fashion house in the world, a symbol of his wealth and status.

"the biggest room in the school? that's just because i got lucky with housing arrangements," choso replied nonchalantly, brushing off kashimo's words. "and these clothes and shoes? it's all just material possessions. it’s not like they define who i am." but even as he said this, a part of him couldn't help but feel proud of what he had achieved and acquired through hard work and determination.

a thoughtful look crossed kashimo's face as he sized up his friend. "you've got it all, man, i’m telling you. looks, brains, talent…what don't you have?" he couldn't help but feel envious of choso's seemingly perfect life. little did he know, beneath the surface, there were struggles and insecurities that even wealth and success couldn't erase.

choso simply shrugged, a slight smile playing on his lips. "my wealth is of no concern to me, and it shouldn't be to you either. you are just as worthy as i am, if not more so. i refuse to be lumped in with those spoiled assholes who strut around this place as if they own it." he gestured towards the crowd of students milling about the school grounds outside his window.

“i’d rather not be labeled as an entitled individual that kicks another down because of their casual way of life." choso's eyes glinted with determination and a hint of defiance. he refused to let his family's fortune define him or dictate how he treated others.

kashimo let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. but then, as if on cue, a smile lit up his face. "let's forget all that," he chirped. "we have more important things to focus on, like finding the perfect outfit for you." his gaze fell upon a rack of clothes. he strode towards it with purpose.

"i think i already have an idea," he added, gesturing towards a sleek and stylish collared shirt on display. it caught the light just right, highlighting its delicate details and flattering cut. kashimo's keen sense of fashion was always reliable, and he knew this would be the ideal choice for his new friend.

choso inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "you have an idea?" he repeated dryly, his dark eyes following kashimo's outstretched finger as it pointed towards the shirt.

with a flick of his wrist and a wide, toothy grin that always made choso roll his eyes and groan, kashimo declared confidently, "yeah, yeah, we'll have you looking like a vogue model by the time we're done." his hands moved deftly, as if conducting an orchestra, as he waved them around in front of choso's face.

the sunlight glinted off the sharp planes of his cheekbones and highlighted the smattering of his blood mark across his nose. choso couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance mixed with fondness for his friend's over-the-top antics. but he knew deep down that kashimo was just trying to help him look his best for his upcoming date.

after a few moments, choso found himself meticulously adjusting the crisp collar and sleeves of his tailored top, the fabric hugging his figure perfectly. he paired it with formal pants in a deep coffee shade, complementing the beige sweater he wore underneath. the overall effect created a polished and put-together appearance.

kashimo's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he lightly nudged choso. "well, you could pass for a model," he teased, his eyes flickering over choso's outfit. the male blushed, not expecting to be dressed in such a fashion so soon. "you're quite the handsome devil, choso." his words were laced with admiration and playfulness. choso's cheeks flushed deeply at the compliment.

"please don't say things like that," he murmured, trying to hide his bashful smile. "but thank you…i think." the soft breeze flowing through the window tousled his hair, adding an extra touch of dishevelment to his already dashing appearance.

placing his hands behind his head, kashimo's snicker broke through the quiet of the bedroom. choso shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt the tips of his ears grow warm with embarrassment. fidgeting with his fingers, he tried to push away the teasing.

"aw come on, choso. your lady friend would definitely approve," kashimo taunted, his laughter now booming in the open space around them.

choso's cheeks grew even redder as he found himself growing more uncomfortable. "can we please stop talking about this?" he pleaded, desperately wishing he could escape this conversation and the teasing that came with it. "and shouldn’t you be saving these comments for hakari, not me?"

kashimo's smirk faltered slightly at choso's words, hints of embarrassment creeping into his expression. "hey, it’s not like he's not my boyfriend or anything," he muttered, trying to brush off the earlier comment.

choso couldn't help but roll his eyes at kashimo's attempt to downplay their relationship. as much as kashimo denied it, everyone knew there was something more between them than just friends. but for now, choso was content with keeping their dynamic as it was - friends who teased each other mercilessly.

"right," choso muttered, his dark eyes flickering with curiosity. "so, what happened the other night with you and hakari, if i may ask? did you two have fun?"

kashimo exhaled slowly, his cheeks flushing as he thought back to that unforgettable evening. "i mean…yes, we did have fun, but a couple things happened that i didn't expect."

choso could see the telltale sign of embarrassment in kashimo's blush. He could only imagine what had transpired between the two of them, causing such a reaction in kashimo. a small smile curled at the corners of his lips, wondering just how wild their night together must have been.

kashimo shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the words to explain his feelings about that night. but they eluded him, leaving him with a tangle of emotions that he couldn't quite put into words. nevertheless, one thing was for sure - it was a night he would never forget.

choso raised a skeptical brow at kashimo's wistful expression. "well, aren't you gonna tell me what happened?" he prodded with curiosity. "you seem like you're reminiscing about it."

kashimo was abruptly pulled from his reverie, caught off guard by choso's inquisitive tone. his lips pursed as he carefully considered how to explain the night's events. "i guess i could tell you," he began slowly. "it was a pretty nice night all around. we ate and drank a little, but then out of the blue, he asked me to give him my hand." a faint smile tugged at the corners of kashimo's mouth at the memory.

"i was confused as to why he wanted my hand, but i gave in anyway. we held hands for a while, just enjoying each other's company. and he had this silly grin on his face…" kashimo trailed off with a fond chuckle.

choso couldn't help but tease, "you didn't kiss, did you?" though his words were nonchalant, there was a hint of playful curiosity in his tone.

"stop," kashimo protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "it's not like that. we just held hands and…okay, we almost did but i got nervous." his words tumbled out in a rush, his eyes darting away from his teasing gaze. "but we're going to hang out again tonight," he continued, determined to prove that there was nothing more than friendship between them. "and i was thinking of having a double date soon since our situations are pretty similar."

choso chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "damn, you're really soiling my plans," he joked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"well excuse me, mr. kamo," kashimo chuckled jovially, his eyes glinting mischievously. "i should've considered that you might've wanted some alone time with the pretty lady… hey, let's head out and get some flowers. that'd be a nice touch, right?"

"i suppose," choso exhaled, rubbing his temples wearily. "would you mind passing me my wallet? it's on the desk." he pointed over to the umber wood desk that held his notebooks and other school supplies. kashimo retrieved the wallet and couldn't resist taking a quick peek inside. among choso's id, dorm room keycard, and a small polaroid of him and his brothers, was a thick wad of cash.

"holy shit, man," kashimo exclaimed before choso could snatch the wallet from his hands. "you could literally buy the whole planet with this amount of money."

"i said give me the wallet, not snoop around," choso narrowed his eyes, an edge of annoyance in his tone. the stack of bills represented years of hard work and sacrifice for him and his siblings. he didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it, let alone stare at it.

as the clock struck seven, you carefully chose your outfit - a sleek black leather jacket and fitted jeans paired with a simple yet elegant blouse. your trusted harley davidson roared as you rode into the parking lot of the upscale restaurant that choso had chosen for your meeting. you removed your helmet and placed it on the bike seat before walking confidently into the building.

inside, the restaurant was bathed in a warm, dim light that enhanced the romantic atmosphere. the scent of scented candles and sizzling food filled the air as you made your way to the table that had been reserved for you and choso. when you spotted him, your heart skipped a beat at his appearance.

instead of his usual intimidating demeanor, choso looked more like a regular academia student with metal adorning his face. he wore a cozy-looking sweater and a purple scarf wrapped around his neck, giving off a sense of vulnerability. a bandage on the corner of his lip suggested that he may have been injured recently. an expensive-looking watch around his wrist. and instead of his signature ponytails, his hair fell freely around his face, some strands neatly tied into a ponytail.

you sat down on the opposite side of the table, unable to contain the soft smile that spread across your face. "hey, choso," you greeted him warmly. the sound of your voice made him look up at you, seemingly surprised that you had actually shown up regardless of whether it was planned or not.

choso's voice was gentle and hesitant as he spoke, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "um…hi," he said, returning your smile with one of his own. he held something behind his back, and as he brought it forward, you saw that it was a bouquet of flowers. your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them.

"i brought you something," choso said, presenting the bouquet to you. each stem was carefully chosen and arranged, bursting with vibrant colors and delicate petals. you were not typically one to accept flowers as a gift, but these were too beautiful to resist.

you took the bouquet into your arms, feeling the softness of the petals against your skin. "wow," you chuckled in disbelief, admiring the intricate details of each flower. "these are really pretty…thank you." your eyes met choso's and you could see the sincerity and thoughtfulness in his expression. it made your heart swell with appreciation for this unexpected gesture of kindness.

choso nodded, a delicate pink hue blooming across his cheeks. "i'm…glad you like them," he stammered, his hand unconsciously smoothing out the creases in his scarf. "i was seriously struggling to decide which flowers would be best for you. i wasn't sure if i made the right choice."

you smiled warmly at him, taking the bouquet from his hands and inhaling the sweet scent of the blossoms. "no, it's okay," you reassured softly. "i love these flowers. no one has ever given me a bouquet before - let alone such beautiful ones like these. i can tell you put a lot of thought into this."

as always, your kind words had choso's heart fluttering and his chest feeling light as air. "well, i'm happy to be the first to give you such a gift," he replied, unable to contain the shy smile that spread across his face. "though now I'm starting to wonder if i should have just given you one of my paintings instead."

you shook your head gently. "whatever gift you came up with, i would’ve loved it," you assured him. "as long as it came from your heart and had some thought put into it, that's all that matters to me."

choso smiled softly, feeling a sense of confidence wash over him. after your simple conversation, the two of you finally sat down to order some delicious food and refreshing drinks. your conversations ranged from how your days had been to school-related topics like class projects and even delved into personal matters.

as the waiter placed your plates in front of you, choso couldn't resist taking a quick photo with his camera, capturing not only the mouth-watering food but also the charming interior of the restaurant.

"smile," choso said with a slight twitch at the corners of his lips. your eyebrows raised in surprise, but you quickly posed for the photo, revealing a flawless smile that made choso's heart skip a beat as he gazed at you through his camera lens.

the vibrant colors and warm atmosphere of the restaurant seemed to enhance your beauty, and choso couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment shared between the two of you.

with a contented smile on your face, you playfully plunged your fork into the steaming bowl of ramen, eagerly slurping up the tender noodles. across from you, choso calmly ate from his plate of shrimp tempura, occasionally watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.

"hey, let's do that thing they always do in the movies with the noodles," you suggested, holding up your fork and wiggling it playfully. a faint blush colored choso's cheeks as he caught on to what you were referring to, and he couldn't help but internally sigh at the thought. it wasn't that he didn't want to do anything romantic with you, but he was wary of how things might change between the two of you afterward.

"i suppose there's no harm in trying," choso said with a small smile, taking the other end of the noodle between his lips. you mirrored his actions, using the thin noodle as a playful tool to bring each other closer. as your lips were only a breath away from touching, you both paused for a moment, your hearts racing in anticipation.

finally, unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance between your lips and shared a brief but sweet kiss. the remaining noodle was quickly swallowed as your lips met, causing choso's eyes to widen in shock and surprise. his cheeks flushed a deep red, almost matching the crimson liquid slowly seeping out from his blood mark and onto the table.

feeling slightly embarrassed by his unusual reaction, choso hastily pulled away and chuckled nervously. "that's part of why i always keep it covered up," he admitted, trying to make light of the situation. but before he could apologize or explain further, he felt your gentle touch as you began wiping away the traces of blood on his cheeks with a napkin.

"it's okay," you reassured him softly, carefully folding the napkin to a cleaner side and continuing to clean his face. "does this happen often?" you asked, genuinely curious about choso's sudden bleeding.

choso nodded, his expression slightly sheepish. "usually when i'm….overstimulated," he admitted with a small smile. it wasn't a common occurrence, but it did happen from time to time, especially in moments like this when he was caught off guard by unexpected yet welcomed intimacy with someone he cared for deeply. "but i can also make it bleed at will."

the sound of your laughter filled the room as choso's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your observation. "that explains why there isn't any red paint in your room. you use your own blood for art…i think that's so cool. but doesn't it hurt?" you asked, genuinely curious about his unique artistic process.

choso shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "no, not in the slightest." his mind seemed to go momentarily blank before he quickly changed the subject. "um…we should finish eating before the food gets cold."

you nodded, returning to your meal but unable to shake off your curiosity about choso's blood mark and how it worked. after dinner, the two of you left the restaurant and made your way back to your motorcycle. you eagerly held onto the bouquet of flowers as you mounted the vehicle and placed your helmet in your lap.

"well, i guess this is where we part ways for the night," choso said, his hand nervously fiddling with his scarf. you looked up at him and checked the time on his watch. despite the sun having set and the moon beginning to rise, the night was still young.

"come on, it's too early to call it a night. let's take a bike ride around shibuya for a bit," you pleaded, hoping to spend more time with choso. just as he was about to politely decline and suggest rescheduling for another day, he felt something stopping him from saying no.

"alright, but please don't drive too fast…i've never been on a motorcycle before," choso reluctantly agreed, surprising himself with his sudden change of heart.

you squealed in excitement and patted the padded seat before putting on your helmet. "you'll have to hold onto me unless you want to fly off," you advised quickly as choso settled himself onto the seat behind you.

"fly off?" choso repeated before you unexpectedly accelerated out of the parking lot, your harley roaring into the night. he inhaled sharply, feeling slightly scared as he instinctively wrapped his strong arms around your body and buried his face into your back. you couldn't help but smirk at your daring actions.

"please…slow down," choso's muffled and shaken voice pleaded from behind you, making you giggle mischievously.

·.⌇ bonus..

under the moonlit sky, you and choso sat on a wooden bench in front of a serene lake. the gentle breeze caused both of you to shiver, but the beauty of the setting made it worth it. as you watched the ripples of the water sway back and forth, you turned to look at choso beside you.

"i wanted to ask you something," you said softly. choso's head snapped over to face you, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"about?" he asked.

"you mentioned that you always keep your mark covered up. you said it was because of people's fear and judgment towards what you really are…but why does it worry you so much?" your question forced choso into a moment of silence as he pondered his response.

"i'm…" he let out a heavy sigh before continuing. "i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i'm not like other sorcerers or curses. i’m half curse, half human. my brother yuji is a sorcerer, while the other two are also curses. normally, humans can’t see curses, but because i am in this body, you can see me."

he glanced at you to confirm that you were still listening before revealing more. "i…um…i keep my blood mark covered because when i get overwhelmed or stressed, my face starts bleeding like i told you before. i'm just embarrassed about it. if people knew what i really was, they would probably be too scared to even look in my direction. people think curses are disgusting and unworthy of life; they are afraid of them. it's better that part of myself hidden and live as a human."

you placed a comforting hand on choso's thigh, gently rubbing it with your thumb. "but choso, i'm not scared of you at all. curse or not, i think you're one of the kindest and most genuine people i've ever met. i honestly thought your unique display of techniques was just your sorcery, but now i know the truth. my opinion of you will never change, i promise."

choso's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "really?" he asked incredulously. "i'm not disgusting or horrible to you?" you shook your head, a small smile quirking at the corners of your lips.

"not even close," you reassured him. "the most people will say about you is how annoyingly smart you are." you playfully teased him, making him chuckle.

"but in all seriousness, you're a genuinely good person, choso." with a tender gesture, you reached up and cupped his cheek, causing his cheeks to flush a light shade of red. as you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, choso couldn't help but place his hand where your lips had just been.

"my face is going to start bleeding again," he muttered with a shy smile, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment.

with excitement bubbling in your chest, you quickly pulled choso's camera out of his bag and slung an arm over his shoulder, positioning the lens perfectly in front of you both. "smile, choso," you chimed with a grin, capturing the moment forever.

choso's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your quick movements, but he obliged and gave the camera his best smile as a bright flash illuminated the area and the sound of the photo printing echoed through the air.

as soon as the picture was fully developed, you eagerly removed it from the slot and examined it with satisfaction. "we look pretty damn good, don't we?" you commented, admiring how the lighting fell perfectly on both of you and the beautiful scenery around you.

"yeah, not bad at all," choso agreed as he gently took the photo from your hands and stowed it away with his camera in his bag. "that was actually the final picture i needed for my project."

"right, your scrapbook thing," you remembered with a smile as you rose from the bench. "shall we head back? i can help you put it together if you'd like."

choso's smile widened at your offer and he nodded eagerly. "i would love that."

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blithesharem · 7 months

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Obey Me: Most Shameful Kink Series

Beelzebub + Sleep Sex

See Original HC Post Here: LINK

Vote on the Next Fic Here: LINK

Prior Entries:

Lucifer + Shibari

Satan + Public Sex

Mammon + Pegging

Explicit. I block minors. AMAB reader.

Beelzebub had never had any trouble seeking out food, no matter what time of day. Lately though, for the first time since the fall, he found himself reluctant to head for the kitchen. Since he had begun spending some nights in your room, you’d made it far too tempting to stay in bed, warm under the covers with you tucked against his chest.

Another growl rumbled from his stomach and Beel sighed, nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking a deep inhale. Maybe if he focused really really hard on how good you smelled, his stomach would-

Nope. A painful hunger pang ached through his body and Beelzebub surrendered, gently detangling your arms from around his neck and easing himself out of your bed. He tucked you back in carefully, smiling as you gave a sigh and a mumble in your sleep, then he headed out in search of something to sate his hunger.

He’d have to be more strategic about keeping snacks in your room, he decided as he crept to the kitchen. It seemed as though everyone was asleep except maybe Leviathan, unless his older brother had fallen asleep watching anime again.

There was something about the comfort of a quiet house at night that soothed Beel just as much as his usual midnight snack did. Knowing all his brothers were home, safe and tuckered out by whatever trouble they’d gotten into throughout the day settled his fears. Even though Lucifer already made his rounds every night before bed, checking that all demons (and humans) were tucked into their beds, sometimes Beel would do the same on his way back into bed after eating. Just in case.

Plus, Beel always reasoned, if Lucifer is checking on everyone himself, then who is checking on him?

The large demon gave a happy hum as he opened the fridge, eyes brightening when he saw the Tupperware Belphie had labeled with his name. He felt a little guilty that he’d leaving his twin alone in their room on the nights he spent with you, even if Belphie had promised him he didn’t mind. Beel supposed he was just enjoying the novelty of sleeping in the other bed for once.

As Beel ate, his mind drifted away from Belphie and back to the reason he’d been sleeping over in the first place…back to you.

Lust was new for Beelzebub. Even after the fall, when they’d all begun feeling more of a draw to sins they’d never indulged as angels, Beel hadn’t had the same burning ache that seemed to torture some of his older brothers right off the bat. No, it had all been only hunger, the new feeling of gnawing emptiness that sometimes threatened to consume him right along with everything else in its path.

But now…well, you had taught him an entirely new meaning to the word. He’d never known he could crave someone so much, feel such a starvation for the lightest touch of your skin or brush of your lips. Even before you’d mated together for the first time, there’d been a piece of Beel that felt insatiable when it came to you. Now that he knew you felt the same, it was hard to resist spending every night together, rutting and panting until you were both spent and satisfied. And even then, when Beel knew you had drained him of everything he had to offer, sometimes he’d watch you fall asleep in his arms and think, ‘I could still have more’.

“Oh.” Beel paused, looking down to realize he’d grown hard thinking of you, his cock straining against the boxers he’d thrown on before walking into the hall. He glanced at his Tupperware, scraping out the last bite, and placed it in the sink.

What now? He palmed his package idly, huffing at the discomfort. He had taken the edge off the hunger, but his daydreams had teased awake this other, new need.

He’d tried taking care of himself on his own, but it was frustrating, and only made him burn for you hotter. It never felt right, his own hand, especially when he was thinking of you bouncing on top of him, with your mouth open and chest flushed. No, the only remedy for this was only to try and think about something else or hunt you down and see if you were feeling the same need he was.

Before he realized it, he’d walked himself back to your door. Slipping silently inside, Beel cast a guilty glance over your form and swallowed hard. You’d shifted since he’d been gone, tossing the blankets off and rolling over onto your stomach. Your ass was gleaming in the moonlight, still wet from the earlier events of the evening. Despite his best efforts, Beelzebub felt his mouth water, and he drew closer.

Your smell…it might have been easier to resist if your scent wasn’t so intoxicating. Somehow heady and floral at the same time, a strange combination of shampoo and sweat and pheromones that was you and only you. Beel dropped his head, breathing in deeply as he pressed his nose into the small of your back.

Delicious.

A thick thumb spread you open and Beel took a hot lap of your entrance before he could stop himself, grunting as his cock gave a happy throb in reply. A kiss then, pressing his lips to you and feeling as your body responded in kind, twitching and hot for him.

“Sorry…” he mumbled, head feeling hazy now, as he took another hungry lap of you. His tongue was thick and hot, dropping down to drag over your sac before back up through the curve of your ass.

It was too much and yet not enough. He needed more.

Carefully, loathe to wake you and disturb your sweet sleep, Beel shed his boxers and reached for the lube, slicking it over his cock even as he oozed pre over your thighs.

“Oops…” he mumbled bashfully, making a mental note to do your laundry for you in the morning. He’d ruined the sheets several times over now…

With a shaky exhale, Beel lowered himself onto his elbow, hovering his body over yours while he rubbed the fat head of his cock against your ass. He loved watching, he couldn’t help it, admiring as it spread you slowly, stretching you wide before you popped around him like you were made to fit each other. With a moan, Beel sank his hips into you, letting his weight fall to pin you to the bed, his body giving a shake of relief.

Tight…and hot…Beel sat there, dazed, as he watched your lips, slick with drool, twitch with silent dream words.

‘I’m in trouble,’ he thinks weakly to himself, trying not to jostle you as he gives an experimental slow thrust. A sleepy whine leaves you, and it may as well be an arrow shot through his heart.

“Sorry,” he pants again, nuzzling into your temple, pressing his lips against your ear, “You feel…so good…” His hand, rough with calluses, slips down your side to caress your leg, before palming it to the bed. You’re sucking him so tightly, it feels like he’ll lift you off the sheets every time he drags his cock from your warmth.

You moan his name suddenly, and Beelzebub feels himself snap, the restrain he always did his best to try and maintain vanishing with a labored whoosh of his exhale against you. He lifts his hips and gives a proper thrust, groaning in relief as he gives in to the hunger once more.

Beneath him, you awake with a sudden grunt as Beel literally fucks the breath out of you. You tighten suddenly around his cock and he gasps your name, pressing his chest against your back and grinding you down.

“Sorry…sorry…” he pants, fucking you feverishly now, as stars burst behind your eyes from the sudden onslaught against your prostrate.

“Goods’goodluhluhlove…,” you drool incoherently, eyes rolling as you try to scramble back to consciousness, difficult to do when Beels weight is swallowing you, and his tongue his fighting greedily for your mouth. He kisses you messily, milking your thigh with his hand still clutched there, as his thick cock pumps in and out of your now pliant hole. Your own shaft is pinned to the bed, not that you’d have the mind to grab it even if you’d wanted to, and it hardly matters. You cum violently, and Beel doesn’t even stuttes his pace.

“More, just a little more,” he begs, shoving his face into your neck like a dog, and you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder.

“He’s gonna eat me,” you think with delirious glee, wanting your Beel to swallow you up and take whatever he needs from your body. With a long, low moan, he slams into you a final time, hilting and holding there as you feel his heavy sac flex on top of your own, pumping a fresh load of his cum into your belly.

For a long moment, neither of you can move, both gasping for air and quivering with the force of you orgasms. Then, slowly, Beel draws from you, a moan falling from you lips as cool air rushes to fill the space where his body had once been.

“I…I did it again…” Beel says miserably, ashamed at having lost control. You give a breathy murmur of comfort, rolling over to face him with tender movements.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you coo, pulling him back down into your chest, cuddling him up as he gladly collapses back on you, “I love it…You know I told you it’s okay…”

“…are you sure?” he mumbles, amber eyes falling to where his hand caresses the red mark his grip left on your leg. It’s definitely going to bruise, but you hardly mind. If anything, you get the feeling you’re going to be getting off on the color multiple times over the healing process…

“I’m okay,” you promise, cupping his cheek to lift him into a long kiss before asking, “Feel better?”

“Yes…but…I’m hungry again.”

“Ah…”

Enjoy my work? Consider leaving a small tip through my ko-fi, or making a request of your own in my inbox.

#LISTEN TO ME because I am so serious #grabs your face #i know his cock is so big i just know it #beel has the thickest fattest juciest cock in the devildom i don't care how unrealistic it is just know that man is packing heavy machinery #you fuck him you are ruined thats his hole now #obey me smut #blithe smut #obey me beelzebub #obey me male reader

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mordacitatis · 11 months

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just got my elliptical put together (after it sat almost assembled in the garage for...months) which means it's time to charge up the kindle and reread a bunch of books. thinking I'll start with @thebibliosphere's Hunger Pangs and then move to @seananmcguire's October Daye series

#the physical therapy begins in earnest #dont have a surgery date yet but hopefully soon #and i gotta get my body back outta pain #so i dont hate my entire life post teet yeet

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sallage · 4 months

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I'm Not Giving Up

The Unexpected Fight Series

Part 2

Warning: This is a tickle fic!

Summary: Bakugo has been different since his fight with Aya. His lack of presence in everyday activities and his changed attitude have become apparent to those around him, and people are starting to take notice. Even though Bakugo never asked for help, his friends would do anything to support him, even if that means confronting him directly and forcing him to face the truth.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler Bakusquad

Words: 4,995

Reading Time: 20 Minutes

A/N: Finally, Part 2! I'm sorry it took so long to come out. Turns out, remastering old works is a lot more work than I thought. I changed damn near every word and I'm still not satisfied with it, per usual. I'll continue writing the series until the end, so don't worry about me giving up on it. I hope it's enjoyed! 😇

Read more ∘₊✧Here✧₊∘

Bakugo was famously known for his temper and volatile nature, which often led him to spend long periods of time alone in his dorm.

However, this was different.

The fight with Aya stuck with him long after it had ended. In his mind, the scene repeated itself over and over again, with his uncontrollable and hysterical laughter echoing throughout the entire scene. He was unable to get over the embarrassing display he had put on, and in an effort to not be questioned again, he refused to speak unless necessary, and avoided everyone's probing eyes.

Bakugo made sure that he put in an exceptional amount of effort during his classes, and his hard work was evident from the high marks he constantly received. He also did remarkably well in his training sessions, and he would always show up the next day to put in another stellar performance. Despite his tireless work ethic, he remained stoic and avoided engaging with anyone.

For the most part, his friends gave him space, but they also worried about him when over time, he became increasingly reclusive. Hesitant knocks at his door gradually progressed to regular knocking sessions and Bakugo chose to ignore it all. With his friends constantly trying to probe why he had become so distant and unresponsive, Bakugo simply brushed off their questions and continued to ignore them.

His stomach growled and he growled back. Unable to ignore the hunger pangs, he got up from his studies and made the short trek to the common room to retrieve the ramen noodles he’d stored away. Looking out of the window, He could see that the night was already set, with only a few specks of light illuminating the darkening sky. There was no sound, just the peaceful stillness that encapsulated the world. The perfect night.

As Bakugo looked out of the window, he noticed a brief hint of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned his attention towards the hallway and locked eyes with Deku. Bakugo felt a cringe run through him, certain that Deku would take the opportunity to try and talk to him. He felt a pre-angry vein ready up in his temple.

Five seconds out of his room and he was already pissed off.

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!”

Bakugo would rather drink paint than respond.

Midoriya faltered, picking up on it right away. “Right well…A bunch of us are going out to get food. I know you’re making some, but you should come.”

Bakugo’s annoyance was visible as he focused on stirring his noodles.

“Kacchan-”

“Does it fucking look like-”

“No, your noodles!”

“Shit!”

The water boiled over the top of the pot, spilling out onto the counter. Bakugo angrily turned the heat down and took the pot to the sink. Looking inside, he found that his noodles were completely overcooked and gross. He had an urge to blow the entire dormitory to dust, his frustration and anger peaking in that moment.

Instead, he picked up his phone and shouldered past Midoriya.

“Hey, where are you going? Aren't you still hungry?”

Bakugo remained silent, walking towards the exit of the building without a word. Midoriya matched his stride, catching up to him and pushing himself between the other and the exit. The blonde closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Move.”

“No.”

Bakugo opened his eyes, dangerous energy flashing through them. “If you don't move, I will turn you and this entire place to dust.”

Midoriya shook his head. “You’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself. What happened at the circuit-”

“Holy shit, do you ever just shut up?!” Bakugo’s face instantly grew red with humiliation. Emotions pounded in his head like a gavel, his fists clenched tight at his sides, wishing he could detonate that annoying ass rock sitting in the back of his throat.

“A win like that may have been enough for a weakling like you but I have higher standards for myself. We're not on the same level, Deku! I’m better than you. And for some stupid reason you keep forgetting that!”

“Kacchan, I’m talking about you beating yourself up over something that's just a part of the process. Her quirk was-”

“I don’t give a shit! Get the hell out of my-”

“You’re falling behind.”

Silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Midoriya quickly kept on. “You never go beyond anymore. Usually, we can hear you practicing in the arena by yourself or with Kirishima, but we haven’t heard you in weeks and Kirishima hasn’t heard from you. There was even an opportunity to shadow a pro hero and you didn’t take it-”

“I don’t need to follow some nobody-”

“No. It’s like you’re depressed or something.” Midoriya bravely interrupted. “It’s like you’re giving up.”

Bakugo's eyes widened, a sudden fire in his chest blazed with determined violence. Sparks spewed from his hands, his eyes set on the green target standing before him. He dared not allow himself to give up or be the laughing stock of the school. He would burn in hell before assuming a role like that.

Midoriya stood his ground, refusing to concede, and determined to face down the inferno before him. He knew being honest with his friend would reward him with something like a bloody nose, but he was determined to anyway, especially if it would help Kacchan in the end.

Bakugo was known for his prideful and arrogant disposition, but this encounter with Midoriya shook him. The younger prodigy’s comments caused the blonde to be infuriated and bitter, but only temporarily. Deep down inside, Bakugo knew there was some substance to the accusation, and it made him feel weak. His energy and willpower were dwindling, leaving him tired, exhausted, and lacking the spark that he always relied on to make him feel like the powerhouse he always saw himself as.

He no longer felt like he could truly measure up, and he hated that.

The sparks in his hands barely left a trace of smoke, leaving Bakugo feeling a mixture of grief and rage.

“I’m not giving up.” He mumbled before roughly pushing past Midoriya and exiting the building.

—

Bakugo took a walk, wanting to occupy his thoughts. He came to a beautiful forest clearing and sat down, leaning back on his elbows, to gaze up at the stars. Despite his efforts to keep his thoughts away, they still came to him on their own.

“It’s like you’re giving up.”

It was Deku that said that to him. That useless fucker told him he was the one slipping through the cracks. He angrily kicked at a rock near his foot.

“I’m not giving up, damn Deku.” Bakugo said out loud. “I’m just getting started.”

His ears suddenly pricked and his attention focused on soft, sneaky footfalls that came from a nearby spot to his left.

Bakugo warily looked around as he stood up, his senses fully alert now. A plan instantly materialized in his mind before an unexpected loud yell came from somewhere behind him. A dark shadow suddenly came hurtling towards him, which he barely dodged in time. He released a blast in that direction then was grabbed from behind. He was just about to unleash a full explosion when he heard a familiar voice.

“Ah! Okay, ouch! What the heck, Bakugo?!”

“Hey, man! Chill out!”

“Kaminari?” Bakugo narrowed his eyes in the now illuminated darkness, as the tree that took the full brunt of his quirk was now on fire. He watched as Kaminari hurriedly extinguished some lit sparks from his hair. The other voice came from behind. ”Kirishima?” Bakugo yelled, confused as hell. “What the hell are you two idiots doing?”

Kirishima released him and put his hand behind his own head apologetically. “We heard you were out here so we all came to see what you were doing.”

Bakugo's eyes darted behind the red head to see the faces of Deku, Sero, and Todoroki, who was icing the part of the tree Bakugo set on fire.

“Sorry not sorry!” Kaminari smiled, still picking at his hair. “But I couldn't pass up on the opportunity to scare the pants off of you.”

“I almost killed you, idiot.”

“But you didn't!” Kaminari winked, throwing a thumbs up.

Bakugo scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his back to them. “You’re all morons.”

He began walking but Kirishima grabbed his arm. “I’m just going to be straight with you, man. All of us are worried about you.”

Bakugo jerked his arm out of his grip. “Worry about yourselves.”

“We know you’re not okay, dude.” Kaminari spoke up. “You haven’t exploded anyone in weeks. That must be a personal record.”

The others nodded, sharing grunts of agreement.

Bakugo growled. “Do you want me to exploded you? Is that it?” Sparks flew wildly out of his hands. “I can take all of you losers without even blinking!”

“Let's do it.”

Everyone looked at Kirishima confused, including Bakugo.

Sero rose his hand as if he were in class. “Five against one? What’s that going to do?”

“He just said he could take us all, so lets do it. But let's make it interesting.” Bakugo saw Kirishima's smile and returned his gaze with sharp, dagger-like eyes. A challenge, even one that seemed suspicious, wasn’t in Bakugo’s blood to refuse.

"What?" Bakugo replied testily. He hated how they all looked at him with pity, as if he was some broken or beaten-down puppy. But he was far from defeated, and he could destroy them all if he wanted to. He would prove each of them wrong, even if it meant blasting them to charred pieces.

Kirishima thought for a moment before answering. “If you win, then we’ll leave you alone. If we win, then you have to let us help you.”

Midoriya knew exactly what Kirishima was trying to do. Bakugo couldn't hope to take them all on at once. There was too much power in this group for him to handle on his own. But, as Midoriya knew too well, Bakugo wouldn't back down.

The angry blonde had been distracted lately, and he was so focused on proving his strength and ability that he might not fully grasp the possibility of failure. Midoriya knew that a challenge like this could finally give them the opportunity to break through to him.

Bakugo turned his nose up, seconds away from refusing before Kirishima added the cherry on top.

“Unless you think you can't?”

Bakugo's explosions ignited, and he sent a powerful blast towards Kirishima, who hardened himself in response and took the hit. Then, he sent a second blast towards Deku, Todoroki, Kaminari, and Sero, who were all standing together. Todoroki threw up an ice wall to block the group from the explosion. The ice wall took the blast and was shattered into sparkling pieces as the explosion dissipated.

Kirishima barreled towards Bakugo who used his quirk to send himself flying into the air. Todoroki instantly leveled with him on the right, raising his right arm. To the left, Bakugo spotted Kaminari still on the ground and sparking with electricity. Sero was next to Kirishima, face scrunched in focus as he held fast with some tape, and Deku had used his quirk to quickly speed behind Bakugo on the ground, so the blonde was covered on all bases. All of them seemed to have coordinated a plan for their attacks without even a warning that Bakugo was going to attack.

They planned this.

In that moment of clarity, Bakugo knew he was going to lose.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try like hell anyway.

He shot his hand up and quickly used his blasts to send him back to the ground. Kaminari and Sero released their quirks at the same time, missing Bakugo and hitting each other. The blonde could hardly land on the ground before he was body slammed hard by Kirishima, tumbling unceremoniously onto his side. Deku jumped up and tried to kick him, but Bakugo grabbed his leg, throwing him in a random direction right as he was was tackled again by Kirishima who was trying to get a grip over the blonde’s wrists.

Bakugo wasn’t stupid, he knew he wasn’t going to win this fight. He also knew his friends weren’t going to leave him alone, but passing up an opportunity to fight them? He’d never done that, no matter his mental state.

Bakugo screamed and set off a blast all around him, knocking Kirishima off of him.

Through the dust and sparks, his eyes widened as he saw Todoroki appear in front of him with his right arm raised, a short burst of ice that was too fast to dodge caught Bakugo’s hand. The blast was harsh, knocking him back a few steps. He slammed his hand onto the ground, using his quirk at the same time to break it. He threw his arm out to Todoroki but his large blast was averted when strong tape closed around his wrist and yanked it backwards.

He glared harshly at Sero, who waved at him, looking nervous. Bakugo’s hands sparked explosively, ready to wipe them both out with a single blast before he suddenly cried out as Kaminari’s quirk seared through him, paralyzing him leaving a hot metallic taste in his mouth.

He was stuck for a few seconds, but it was enough. Deku flew in out of nowhere and delivered a hard kick to his chest, making him fall flat onto his back. Kirishima immediately grabbed his wrists, hardening himself in time for a large explosion to overtake them both. Todoroki covered the others protectively with an ice wall, which shattered and exploded around them, falling around them like burnt snow.

Bakugo’s hands smoked and steam rose off of Kirishima’s body, but he was still holding the other. Bakugo cursed and readied himself for another round, but was quickly stopped when he felt tape wrap tightly around his wrists then ice following enveloping his hands in a large block that covered his arms from his fingertips to his elbows, securing him tightly to the ground with his wrists raised slightly over his head. Midoriya, and Kaminari jumped over to his legs, trying to restrain them as he kicked and cursed wildly.

It was over.

Everyone around him was breathing hard, trying to wrestle a feral and partially restrained Bakugo, who was still fighting despite the obvious. A hand was gently placed on his shoulder.

“It’s over!” Kirishima shouted, trying to speak over his aggression. “Stop fighting, we won.”

Bakugo shook his head and cursed. “Get the hell offa me!”

“No!” Everyone yelled in unison.

“I said get off!” There was a small chip in his voice.

Everyone paused and looked at each other, worriedly. Kirishima put both hands on Bakugo’s shoulders and pressed them firmly to the ground. “Bakugo, stop!”

He did. He just laid there silently, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He was no longer struggling and no longer spewing hateful words. He was defeated.

But most of all, he was tired.

Silence lingered. Kirishima was the one to break it.

“We’re going to be real with you, man.” Kirishima started, easing up on his grip. “We’re all worried about you. You haven’t acted like yourself in weeks. You’re acting like you’re giving up on becoming the number one hero. You walk around as if someone killed your dog, man and its gotta stop. ”

Bakugo stayed silent for a while. “I’m not giving up.”

“Could have fooled us.” Kaminari mumbled, earning a glare from the blonde.

“Hate to break it to you, dude but you might be depressed or unmotivated or something.” Sero shrugged as a matter of factly.

“You need support and you need it from your friends.” Todoroki deadpanned.

Midoriya stayed quiet and observed from the back, knowing his input could set the blonde off in a different way.

Bakugo knew deep down that they were right. He would never admit it out loud, but he was unmotivated, stuck in an endless cycle of self-hate and criticalness. Before the circuit, he was convinced that he had mastered all of his weaknesses and found ways to overcome them. Whether it was a new support item or modifications to his hero uniform, he felt unstoppable with every step he took forward. He felt as if he had everything under control, until such a trivial and unconventional weakness he hadn’t thought about since childhood nearly had him begging at the hands of a girl that didn’t even lay one finger on him. Technically he won that battle, but in his mind he lost.

Just like that damn sports festival.

Bakugo shifted uncomfortably, having reached his limit with everyone’s hands and eyes all over him. “Fucking whatever! Fine.” He grunted before he could stop himself.

Sero and Kaminari gasped, making Bakugo want to immediately retract his statement.

“Manly!” Kirishima whooped, shaking the blondes shoulders ceremoniously.

“Now let me up.” Bakugo demanded, pulling at his arms, unable to feel his hands anymore due to the cold.

Everyone’s smiles disappeared, and they looked at each other again. Bakugo noticed the looks and frowned.

“What?”

Kirishima smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, man. You're not going to like this but,” The red head paused, stealing a glance at Midoriya. “We’re going to help you.”

Bakugo growled. “What the hell does that mean? Just let me up!”

Kirishima braced himself. “We’re going to tickle you.”

Bakugo blanched.

“No.”

“It makes sense.” Kaminari spoke up. “We can get your endurance up.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“It could work.” Todoroki agreed.

“Are you all deaf or something? I said no!”

“Damn it, Kacchan!” Midoriya yelled. He got up from his position and stood over him. “This is messing with you because you give it power. I know you feel like it’s a big deal, but it’s not the end of the world.” Midoriya’s voice was firm and confident. “You’re not weak Kacchan, but the way you’re acting is.”

Bakugo’s face turned red. With anger or embarrassment, Midoriya didn’t know or care, so he continued. “I’ve never known you to give up on anything, even when things seemed impossible. If you give up on this, you won’t improve. And you could become a liability; the weakness on someone else’s team.”

Everyone was slack jawed. Kirishima even leg go of Bakugo’s shoulders. The angry blonde looked as if he was about to explode, staring at Izuku with eyes that dripped with venom.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke through gritted teeth. “Then fucking get it over with.”

Everyone looked at each other then at Midoriya. His eyebrows were raised in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting his friend to even hear anything he said. Everyone shared his moment of shock before nodding at each other and moving.

Bakugo’s heart pounded in his chest when Midoriya moved to sit next to Todoroki, who applied more ice to his already tightly restrained arms. Sero and Kaminari reinforced their hold on his legs and Kirishima sat criss crossed next to him. In a soft voice, he started speaking. “We’re just going to see how long you can last, and we’ll work from there. The safe word is red. Say that if you can’t take it anymore.”

“This is stupid.” Bakugo huffed. “I don’t need a damn safe woh-!”

Sudden light scribbles over the fabric covering his sides forced his mouth closed as Kirishima tentatively used the tips of his blunt nails to lightly scratch at the area. The blonde cringed and furrowed his brow. If Kirishima had a magnifying glass, he would be able to make out other’s nose twitching, the action so minuscule it seemed wrong to even notice it. Kirishima moved his nails to his stomach, where more noticeably, Bakugo’s body tensed. Kirishima resisted the urge to smile, knowing the blonde would put a stop to this immediately if he sensed any amusement from either one of them.

As soon as Kirishima’s devil nails touched down on Bakugo, the blonde instantly instantly regretted consenting to it. His wardrobe wasn't the least bit protective, sporting a simple black tank top and lose fitting sweatpants. When Kirishima grazed his fingernails over the sides of his hips, he involuntarily yanked at his arms hard, cracking some of the melting ice. Midoriya and Todoroki reinforced their grip on his elbows and biceps, forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent cursing them out, more worried about laughter spilling out than actual words.

Jolts of ticklish energy moved through his body, striking him at random like lightning in the form of twitches and jolts. Somehow he felt more sensitive, Kirishima’s soft fingers already driving him up the wall. He growled out loud when Kirishima struck a soft spot right above his hip bones and the red head paused before lightly spidering his fingers there. Bakugo tried to pull his legs to his chest but Sero and Kaminari where right there to prevent it.

“Fuck this,” He mumbled, shaking his head. “I changed my MiHIND!” He cursed at the high pitched yelp that flew out of his mouth when Kirishima nicked one of his lower ribs. He shook his head again and pulled at his arms, face burning. “Did you h-hear me, idiot? I said-”

Kirishima’s big hands closed around his ribs and squeezed, causing the angry blonde to writhe and arch to the side. He wanted to open his mouth and tell him to stop, but he couldn’t get past the closed mouth grunts and giggles that wanted to slip past his tightly pursed lips. Bakugo started struggling, less from the sensations currently driving him mad and more by the need to escape. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything else.

The wind, the noise the trees made when it passed, the crickets-

His eyes suddenly shot open when he felt fingers in both of his armpits. He ripped himself from his meditation to lock eyes with Deku and Todoroki who were lightly tickling his armpits at the same softness as Kirishima. He spluttered and started yanking at his arms for a different reason now, but all for the same goal.

Kirishima looked up and locked eyes with the others. Bakugo almost missed the silent message that passed between the three of them, but before he could protest, they all transitioned from light curious scribbles to harsh and rough ones. Kneading, pinching, and scratching up and down his ribs and in and around his armpits.

Bakugo let out a bark of surprised laughter before soundlessly thrashing.

Kirishima used his fingers to keep a good grip on the blonde’s sides while his thumbs got to rotating, kneading right into the groves and ridges of his ribcage. Kirishima rotated his thumbs into wide circles, then would randomly pinpoint a small section that he would focus on, driving the blonde crazy with its unpredictability. Midoriya knew exactly which buttons to push, forcing the blonde to inch away from him the most despite similar treatment on his other side. Midoriya knowingly teased and traced around Bakugo’s death spot, and he was hyper aware of the fact that Midoriya had the golden ticket and how close he was to cashing it in.

“You…Mother…f-fucking NERD!” Bakugo hissed when Midoriya faked out scratching at his death spot, instead going around it.

“He’s not even paying attention to me. Midoriya, what are you doing?” Todoroki talked as if he was asking about the weather or a homework assignment, not like he was in the middle of trying to wreck his friend.

Bakugo shot Midoriya a world shattering glare, but Midoriya just smiled and shrugged, not wanting to be the one to reveal his childhood best friend’s weak spot. “You just have to look, I guess.”

“Okay.”

Todoroki picked up the pace, searching for a spot that would produce a similar reaction. Once Todoroki’s wiggling fingers descended towards the bottom of his armpits, Bakugo gasped and shifted away, causing the half and half hero to look at Midoriya with deadpanned victory.

“I got it.”

Todoroki nodded at Deku, then at Kirishima. A silent agreement passed between the boys and Bakugo’s eyes widened as soon as he caught onto it.

“Wait, fuck stop! You- Agh! No no NOO! WAHAIHAIHAIHAIHAIIT!” He screamed, arching his back and trying his best to kick his legs out of his friend’s tortuous grip. “AGGHAAH! AAHAHAHAHAHA WHAHAT THE HEHEHEHEHHELL?! NAH! STAAAHAHAHAHAHP!”

Bingo. Todoroki and Midoriya massaged the spot right above his ribs and below his underarms. Kirishima closed his hands into fists and started knuckling the bottom half of his ribs. Bakugo’s laughter went up a few pitches and he jerked around hysterically, attempting to buck his hips and free his arms and legs. He felt cool water rolling down his arms and to his frustration, even that tickled.

“STAHAHAHAHAP, YOU BASTARDS!”

Black smoke rose from holes in the ice and Todoroki stopped to reapply it. Bakugo didn't even notice the break, due to Midoriya absolutely letting him have it on his other side. Bakugo sneered and cursed, face scrunched in delirious hilarity. Kirishima’s devious fingers wiggled down Bakugo’s torso, testing new areas for reaction. His sides caused him to writhe depending on the pressure, but he could explore that later. Once kirishima’s fingers graze over his hipbones, Bakugo threw his head back and let out an uncharacteristic shriek. Kirishima frowned, confused for a moment before looking over to see Kaminari and Sero messing with the undersides of his knees. Chucking to himself, He watched Bakugo try and fail to kick his legs, shaking his head and bucking his hips.

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! FUCK! GEHEHEHT OFF MEHEHEHEHE!”

He slammed his head on the ground, his face and neck turning a dark shade of red.

Without warning, Midoriya and Todoroki doubled their efforts. Not wanting to be outdone, Kirishima doubled down as well. Kaminari and Sero chuckled at Bakugo’s hilarious reactions and started teasing the top of his knees as well as the bottom. Bakugo’s laughter stayed the same but his thrashing increased, throwing Kaminari around as the electric hero lost his grip a few times.

Bakugo’s laughter became desperate. The spidering along his hips, the fingers in his underarms, the knuckling along his ribs, the annoying and jolting tickles on both sides of his knees and the massage along his death spot was way too much. Through a frustrated yell, his struggling doubled and the ice crackled again, bits and pieces flying off in jagged layers.

“AAHHHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAH! SHIT! SHIHIT OKAY! RAHAHAHA- REH- REEHEHEHEHEHHED! RED DAMN IT SSTAHAHAHAHAHHAPP!”

Everyone’s fingers stilled and Bakugo’s entire body slumped, head pushed back, defeated.

“Alright man,” Kirishima started. “That was 4 minutes.”

“I can understand why you think it’s a weakness.” Kaminari stifled a giggle.

“Yeah, dude you're like, super ticklish.” Sero chuckled, nudging Kaminari.

If Bakugo’s face had been able to blush any further, it would have.

“Shut… up.” He gasped. “Get this damn ice offa me.”

Everyone let up. Todoroki melted his ice and Sero cut his tape. When Bakugo was free, he sat up and dusted himself off. He rubbed his hands together warming them and resisted the urge to smack and rub his body to make the phantom sensations go away.

Everyone was looking at him, expectedly, wondering if they had went too far. Bakugo picked up on it and groaned. “The fuck are you all gawking at?”

Kirishima clapped his hands together once, eagerly. “Alright well, I say we set up some training sessions! Come up with different challenges that Bakugo would have to face and track his progress.”

“One could be an interrogation! Someone could give him a set of numbers and he would have to hold onto it until a time limit expires.” Sero shrugged.

“One could include combat training.” Todoroki quietly suggested. “We could spar and see if it affects how he fights.”

“Then after a while we could do this again and see if he can last longer!” Sero concluded.

“So it’s about endurance?” Kaminari asked.

“Well, yeah.” Kirishima answered. “That means he’s going to have to get tickled. A lot.” Kirishima felt a small twinge of guilt as he looked at Bakugo, realizing that the blonde's plight was indeed a humorous one, but he also recognized the severity of the situation. He had never viewed being ticklish as anything more than a harmless and fun activity, but he could see that it affected Bakugo differently, which made him want to reach out and be there for him.

Kirishima had no idea what exactly his friend was feeling, but he intended to support him in whatever way he could. “You have to be willing, Bakugo or this isn’t going to work. You can say yes or no and we won’t push you, but know that this will help you, and it will help you improve rather than hold you back.”

Bakugo finally looked up at the group, and exhaled tiredly. It was not an angry, irritated, or upset sigh, but one of pure exhaustion.

“Fine.” He conceded, rolling his eyes as everyone’s faces lit up in happy surprise. “No one finds out about this. I mean it, assholes. Got it?”

Everyone nodded enthusiastically and Bakugo huffed.

The tired blonde stood up and stretched, narrowing his eyes at everyone, gaze lingering on a nervous green headed nerd. “Who told you losers I was out here?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Sero pointed at Deku, who squawked at the other in betrayal. Bakugo’s eyes flash red and he set off some small explosions in his hands. “Run. Run hard and fast.”

Deku wasted no time, tripping over himself as he rapidly climbed to his feet and ran away, yelling some sincere sounding apologies behind him with Bakugo right on his ass.

Everyone laughed and Kirishima sighed contently.

Bakugo was back.

˚ · • . ° .

Part 3

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